Hermione Doesn't Make Mistakes
by ColorMeMonochrome
Summary: Harry, after the war, decided to return for his 7th year. After a fight, attempting to make up with Ginny put him instead in 1943 with a large question. Was his true love someone in 1943 or back in 1998? Follow Harry as he navigates another war, Riddle's attentions, and the question of whether he should go back... forward. Warnings: Slash, Het, FemSlash, and ultimately, TRxHP.
1. A Girl, a Monster, an Interrogation

**Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, I wouldn't have to keep looking up dates and names on the wiki.**

 **WARNINGS: Slow building slash. Harry will be in other relationships before Harry and Tom actually end up together.  
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 **CHAPTER ONE.**

Hermione finally finished brewing, from the looks of her relieved smile. Not like he was counting time or anything. She was doing the majority of the work. Nothing unusual about that. She wiped her brow with her sleeve, took a ladle and poured it into a bottle, and looked up at him. "Here you go, Harry," she said, handing him a silver, swirling potion.

Harry took it, the potion still warm. "Thank you." No, what was unusual was not that she was brewing a potion, but that they were doing so alone. No supervision. Quite like their adventure in second year. It gave him a bit of a buzz. He missed that. Adventure. He wasn't Gryffindor for nothing.

Well, to be truthful, he probably had more than enough adventure for a lifetime. Brewing secret potions was about all he could take at the moment after the war.

"You're welcome, Harry." Hermione started cleaning her workstation.

"You know, Hermione I never got this angle of you in potions before..."

Hermione blinked back, her warm milk chocolate eyes brightening in surprise. He had a weird feeling. Like he should be enjoying this moment while it lasted. "Really?"

"Yeah, I have to admit... I can see why Ron didn't notice you before... You look like a right mess." And he pointed to her hair frizzing up even more than normal due to the potions fumes.

"Oh sod off, Potter!" she said, mock indignant, before bursting out in giggles.

They were sitting in a well provided potions room thanks to the Room of Requirement. Or rather, he was sitting. She was standing over the cauldron and he had been sitting patiently in front of her since he finished drawing runes on the ground of the Room of Requirement.

Yes, he drew runes. He rather regretted the decision to take Divination and Care of Magical Creatures as his electives, but there's not much he could do about it at this point. Then again, did his NEWTs really matter? From what Minister Shacklebolt suggested, he really had the credentials to work anywhere. He just needed to flash his scar.

Actually they'd earned the right to go wherever they please after the war and the Room of Requirement was no longer a secret room either; it was just nice to have a place provide him his needs. It always meant something safe in Harry's heart so he came back whenever he had a chance.

He wasn't sure why he had decided to stay for seventh year and just go into Auror training like Ron, but after feeling so lost while they had been traveling last year, he decided to actually become more educated. At least, that's what he told Hermione. He told Ginny and Ron it's because he wanted to be with Ginny for the extra year. It was nice actually being in classes together too since they were now both seventh years together.

While partly both of those things, in truth, it was tough leaving Hogwarts castle itself. He missed the walls of the first place he called home. It wrapped him with a warm, loving embrace, the best way any thousand year old castle could – with Magic. He wanted to help out and make sure that after the war that the castle was as strong as ever. He also wasn't really sure he wanted to chase bad wizards for the rest of his life. Going back to Hogwarts was supposed to help him stall while he explored his options.

Killing off Voldemort felt great at first, but now it seemed that something was missing from him. That is, something missing other than the Horcrux sharing his body.

That's why he kept trying new projects with Hermione. To distract himself, and the small part of him that didn't need to play lazy with Ron was actually enjoying the intellectual challenge. Not that being lazy wasn't great. Considering he could have died at any time over the past seven years, lazy was what he needed. But this was now. This was after the war.

This current project they had been working on was a Christmas gift – well, now, an early Christmas gift or please-stop-being-angry-with-me apology gift. The original surprise would have been to show up at her doorstep or in her room or however the transporting part worked with the knowledge that Ginny was his true love. That's what the potion in combination with the runes supposed to do – determine his true love, which he was certain was Ginny.

And for his efforts, he and Ginny had a spat at lunch because he said he wasn't going to stay with her at the Burrow as part of the setup for the surprise. He hadn't realized she was going to make a big deal of it.

Well, it was a pretty bad fight actually. Not like a small lover's spat. He had made it worse by indicating that Ginny shouldn't have been so hot-tempered about the whole thing, and, for him using "hot-tempered," Ginny sent him a Bat-Bogey Hex (a snarky part of him wondered if she knew any other hexes) and then proceeded to shout about how he'd been spending so much time with Hermione and that it was embarrassing when her dormmates whispered that there was probably trouble in paradise if Harry was spending time with a girl other than his girlfriend.

And that sort of.. that sort of made him upset, if he cared enough to think about it more. She was accusing him of cheating on her with his best friend's girlfriend who also happened to be his other best friend. Of course Hermione was close to him, they had gone through so much in the war and in the last seven years...

So could he really be blamed if he didn't chase after Ginny when Hermione was also upset at the accusation? That seemed to make it worse for his and Ginny's relationship, but as much as he loved Ginny, he couldn't help but know he would choose Hermione over her any day.

This potion Hermione had found had been hidden in a book about German wizarding history and showed it to Harry when he had been having trouble with what to do about Ginny's Christmas gift back in November. It was written in German, but Hermione swore she had the correct translation and that this wouldn't end badly. This was Hermione, so of course Harry didn't raise too much of a fuss.

"I don't really want to know," Hermione said, when Harry asked if she was going to try the ritual with Ron. Harry wanted to try it though. "There are risks," Hermione had said. "The book warns that this ritual is particularly powerful, and the extent at which it would find your True Partner could be drastic. It would have torn through Hogwarts wards to transport you out if it saw fit. I don't know what the side effects could be if it did something like that."

But Harry was sure. Ginny was his true love or equal partner or however it should be phrased. It just had to be official. A part of him wondered whether he was okay with this because it would effectively be a huge "let's get married" sign, but if Ginny was the one, why wait, right?

"You're sure it's a working potion?" Harry asked. "Remember last time we tried to secretly brew a potion?"

Hermione sent him a look as if daring him to try better. But she looked at the cauldron. "I mean I could have always used more time to practice but I followed the instructions exactly. You're sure you don't want to wait until Christmas to surprise her like in the original plan?"

"She's upset. I don't want us to spend the week not talking because she thinks I don't want to be with her. It's not quite the Christmas morning 'Hey I'm in the Burrow' surprise I was hoping for, but this should do just fine."

"Are you worried this fight is permanent?" Hermione asked.

Harry frowned. "I don't think it's permanent... but I think she's trying to teach me a lesson I don't quite know the meaning of. In any case I have a bad feeling that if I am away for long enough, this break up could become permanent... Well, I think... I think Ginny would still want to date me, but it wouldn't be good for our relationship." Harry wasn't sure that that meant, even as he said it. It sounded right, but it also sounded like given enough time apart he would have broken up with Ginny for good.

Hermione furrowed her brows and looked into his eyes as if searching for something. But then she looked at the potion in his hands. Her headed moved up and down very slightly as if agreeing with herself on something. "Well, alright then. I'll see you back in the common room if it all works out. You're sure it's Ginny?"

"Who else could it be?" He ignored her puzzled expression.

And Harry got onto the floor in the center of the runes he drew with potion in hand. He took a few deep breaths while Hermione only watched.

After he took a swig, Harry's eyes shut involuntarily and he felt his stomach lurch a little and his back suddenly feel too heavy to keep him up. Eyes refusing to open, he fell forward from his kneeling position, arms sprawled on the cold stone floor as if gravity itself had increased.

He heard his glasses crack and he mentally groaned. That's great. He hoped glasses didn't get into his eyes or skin. "Hermione, are you sure it's supposed to do this?" There was no answer.

Suddenly, the heaviness lifted and he blinked because his eyelids were no longer paralyzed shut. Pushing himself up, he looked around to notice Hermione and her potions set were no longer there. Harry thought to himself that it must have worked. Though a small Hermione-like voice in his mind pointed out that he was supposed to be transported, not her. He looked around. No Ginny, either.

No one, really. Was this the Magic's way of saying he didn't belong with anyone? That was.. that was sort of depressing. He was transported to an empty classroom? Sighing, he got up and walked to the means of egress. They could have messed up. Hermione could have translated incorrectly. He just hoped nothing too bad happened. Like suddenly he was the last man on earth because Magic couldn't find his true partner.

His field of vision was behaving strangely, he thought offhandedly. That is, stranger than the webbed crack he could sense from one lens. Potions side effect, probably. But his vision was both too sharp and too blurry.

When Harry walked out and quietly shut the door behind him, he noted that it was particularly quiet. Was it evening? Harry frowned. He certainly felt something was different. He walked down the corridor to find his way back to Gryffindor common room when he caught his reflection in the suit of armor.

Harry immediately stepped closer, thinking someone was stuck in the reflection of the suit of armor.

He flicked his hand at the nearby light to brighten the hall.

Oh, oh no. It's just himself looking even worse than normal. His hair was a disaster and that was saying something. There was a red mark on his cheek where it was crushed against the stone floor earlier. He thought it was a small webbing but his entire right lens looked completely shattered. He took it off only for half of it to drop and shatter into tinier pieces on the ground.

He sighed, letting himself drop to the ground. He reparo'd it wandlessly, though with a whisper. Putting the glasses back on, he realized that it wasn't his imagination. His prescription was all off. His eyes were stronger than they used to be.

He decided not to put his glasses on until he reached someone who could fix his prescription, so he stuffed the glasses in his pocket.

Looking back at his reflection he noted that he otherwise appeared normal. Albeit blurry.

Someone cleared their throat and Harry's snapped out of his reverie. "Pardon, but what _are_ you doing down there?" Harry looked up and saw a male face upside down, someone with a smooth complexion and a dark, soothing voice.

How long were they there? He didn't hear footsteps.

"Oh, sorry I think I might have dropped something," he replied. As Harry stood up, he brushed off his robes and turned around.

Only to immediately back himself into the armor behind him as he stared into the face of someone he knew was supposed to be destroyed entirely. He managed to balance himself but the suit of armor seemed indignant as it righted itself to its former glory.

Tom Marvolo Riddle was in front of him.

No, this must be a nightmare, Harry thought, scrambling to his feet and reaching for his wand to defend himself. Suddenly his wand flew out of its holster and into the hand of Riddle who must have wordless cast an accio. Harry was ready to start casting wandless magic but he wasn't advanced enough for a fight. He wasn't battle ready at all – not having a madman trying to kill you makes you really rusty with your flight or fight response.

He was on full alert – only Riddle's lack of a battle posture and sense of urgency kept Harry from attacking immediately. Not to mention Voldemort was very much dead. Was there another ritual missed? Why was he wearing school robes? And standing next to Riddle was a rather normal, but pretty looking girl.

Tom Riddle was wandering around Hogwarts. Yes, this is a nightmare. Harry would work with that.

Even after falling into metal, Harry's behavior did not seem to alarm Riddle a bit, though Riddle was staring at Harry's wand, twirling it around, probably disturbed by how well it matched him. Curse Fawkes and curse his feathers for causing that bond between him and Riddle. Riddle looked puzzled at the holly wand and appeared to want to use it.

The girl with shoulder length hair standing next to him stepped forward since Riddle was distracted. "And you are?" the girl asked.

"Harry umm" Harry stopped when his brain caught up and realized he might be in the past. What did Hermione do to him? Why was he here?

"Harium?" the girl asked.

"Ye-es," Harry said, unwittingly drawing the word out. The girl did not seem to notice anything wrong but Riddle narrowed his eyes.

It seemed Riddle couldn't decide between suspicion of this "Harium" name and incredulity that his companion would believe Harry.

"Regardless of who you are," Riddle said. "You are past curfew. This must be reported to your Head of House." Riddle's gaze and Harry's lack of a wand made him feel naked and vulnerable.

Harry, still, was barely putting things together. Head of House? So Riddle was a student?

"And what, pray tell, were you planning on doing when you pulled your wand on prefects, Mr...?"

"I was just going to check the time," Harry said, managing an annoyed tone. Just going to check the date, in actuality. Prefect? So Riddle was in his fifth or sixth year.

Riddle looked skeptical at the answer.

"It's okay, I'll take him to Dumbledore. It's on the way back to Ravenclaw dorms. You can finish the rounds?" the girl said.

Riddle looked Harry over and in a drawl said, "You're sure you're not going to get attacked? I don't recognize him. I'd be better suited to do it."

The girl smirked. "Why, I didn't think you cared!"

Immediately, Riddle looked annoyed. "Suit yourself." He started walking away.

"My wand?" Harry said, patting himself on the back for that not coming out like a desperate paranoid screech.

Riddle looked down, apparently confused that he forgot he was holding it, and tossed it back at Harry before continuing on his way.

"Ignore him, he's been moody since he came back from the summer," she said. "I'm Winifred Vance, the sixth year Ravenclaw prefect. I'll take you to Professor Dumbledore."

Harry's mind started racing again. Dumbledore was alive in 1940 something, whenever he was. There were so many things he could say to his old mentor, but he didn't know where to start. He just nodded and followed Winifred. If she said her last name was Vance, did that mean she was related to Emmeline Vance?

"We saw you increase the lighting in the hallway and fix your glasses – impressive feat of casual use of wandless and wordless magic. I'm surprised someone with that control over magic isn't a prefect or Head Boy," Winifred chuckled. "I like to imagine that Riddle purposely summoned your wand wordlessly just to show off his power too." – Harry had mixed emotions about the idea of Riddle trying to show off, to him of all people – "What were you doing in the hall anyway?" she asked.

"I.. I wasn't feeling well. Needed to take a walk.. I thought I was looking like a mess when I saw my reflection," Harry added, attempting to paint his lie of a story.

"Oh.. OH," Winifred said, turning to look at Harry. "Did you need to go to the Hospital Wing?"

"Oh, no," Harry thought.

"Sorry about that. Go straight to the Hospital Wing if there are troubles next time," she said.

"Thank you," Harry said, not knowing what else he could add. A couple minutes later, "You say we a lot... are you and Riddle... friends? Dating?" Harry made a face. He also would have a hard time imagining this nice girl and Riddle being any how close.

"Hmm," Winifred had an interesting smile on her face, and she didn't respond for a while, just evaluate Harry from the corner of her eye. "We're not friends, per se. I don't think he has actual friends, just acquaintances. I think he tolerates me because I'm smart enough to keep up on partnered work and he knows I'm not really attracted to guys, so I wouldn't try to flirt with him at every moment."

Harry wasn't quite sure what Winifred was saying at first. But then, "Oh. You are... interested in women?" That was a bit disappointing.

"Primarily," she responded. "Though I admit you're cute enough that I might reconsider that a little." Harry thought she was joking at first, but as he looked at her, he realized that she could actually be serious. "Just a little. More than any other guy though."

Harry felt himself reddening madly.

Eventually, they reached Professor Dumbledore's office, apparently. It wasn't quite McGonagall's quarters, but higher up in Hogwarts. Winifred knocked. "Professor? I have a student who was out of curfew today."

The door opened, though Dumbledore was still at his desk. He looked up at the two students at the door. "Thank you, Winifred. I was expecting him. I'll see you tomorrow in Transfigurations."

"Thanks, Professor."

Winifred turned to Harry and smiled, and Harry just noticed how blue her eyes were. "Hope to see you around. And oh, you can call me Winnie! All my friends do." She gave a sly wink and walked away, with her hips swaying and she flicked her hair over her shoulder.

Harry stared at her as she left, and gulped, feeling tingly. He was still in love with Ginny, but since he was brought here... perhaps Winifred was the true partner? It was hard to say.

The door snapped shut. He turned around to look at Dumbledore, feeling alarmed.

"Who are you? I know all the children at Hogwarts and you are not one of them. State your name and purpose."

Dumbledore's fury shocked Harry so much he couldn't think properly. "I – I -"

Apparently that wasn't fast enough because Dumbledore continued: "No matter, _Stupefy._ "

When Harry woke up, he found himself blearily looking at Dumbledore, Slughorn, and who Harry recalled was Professor Dippet. His arms were bound and he was sitting in a chair, stuck in place. They were still in Dumbledore's office but this was no longer just a meeting. It was a full blown interrogation.

"Open your mouth," said the calm Slughorn.

Consciously trying to be a willing participant, Harry did as he was told. Harry thought maybe 5-6 drops of what must have been Veritaserum were placed on his tongue. Guess they were not taking any chances. Not wanting to raise anyone's spell-happy tempers, Harry didn't say a word.

"State your name," Headmaster Dippet said gently.

"Harry James Potter."

Dumbledore looked like he was getting very angry, it wasn't particularly obvious but Harry felt the bubbling magic coming from his direction. "There are no known Potters your age."

"Perhaps a strong Occlumens?" Dippet asked, concerned.

"It seems very likely that this boy is a well trained spy able to defeat the Veritaserum."

"I'm not," Harry insisted. "Please, I'm not a spy. I'll submit to more drops of Veritaserum if it helps?"

Slughorn gave the other two a glance. "I think there's more to this story but not necessarily malicious. Any more drops of Veritaserum and the boy could be poisoned."

A bit nervous, Harry volunteered instead, "I am not an enemy of the British ministry, light wizards, or Hogwarts." Dippet seemed satisfied with that. So did Slughorn. Battle hardened Dumbledore was not.

"Let's get the boy's story first, then we can start poking holes in it," Dippet said.

Dumbledore continued, "This is a war. I'm sorry but we have to be careful. Are you working for or with Dark Wizard Grindelwald? Are you a sympathizer of him or his cause?"

"No to all of that," Harry said easily.

"Then why are you here?" Dippet asked.

"I'm not sure. I was brought here with what seems to have been an incorrectly brewed potion. I don't really want to stay here..." Harry said, his mind flashing to an image of Tom Riddle holding Harry's wand. Desperate for an escape, Harry said, "Professor Slughorn, if you can find a reversal of a potion, I think it might be able to take me back."

Apparently he must have said something wrong because all men looked firm again. "I did not give you my name, Harry Potter." And Harry realized they had avoided using their names around him this entire time. "And a potion should not have transported you. A potion only changes that which it touches," Slughorn said, as if lecturing. "Perhaps we do have a spy but one lacking in Potions knowledge."

Harry frowned. "There were runes too." Though Harry didn't understand why the potion was necessary if just the runes were needed to transport him to the 1940s. So it was something in the way the runes and the potion interacted? He felt as if Hermione could have said, 'This could send you fifty years into the past. Thought you out to know."

Dippet said, "I happen to have taught Runes back in my days as a professor." He chuckled. "That was a mighty long time ago. But that should be fine. I wouldn't want to drag our current Runes professor into this."

"Headmaster, I do not know if I trust this child, still," Dumbledore said, frowning. "He is British yet has never been a student of Hogwarts but is wearing a school uniform. It seems more believable that this is a sinister plot to take Hogwarts for hostage..." He paused and sighed. "Though I am reluctant, I believe I am a strong enough in Legilimency to break down the boy's walls."

"Albus!" Slughorn said incredulous and offended. "If this is truly an innocent child, you can damage their mind."

"I took am shocked at this suggestion, Albus. No one can apparate in, and yet I was informed moments ago that a new presence had entered Hogwarts by the wards. I have an idea. There is one and only known way within reach that can break through mental defenses without damaging the mind." Clearly his throat, he said clearly. "I need an Elf!"

A crack! A house elf appeared, bowing. "You called for an elf, Mr. Master, sir?"

"Please bring me The Hat."

Two cracks later, the house elf appeared with The Sorting Hat held in both arms. "Take your hands off me, Elf!" Squeaking and grumbling about naughty hats, the house elf let go but the Sorting Hat didn't fall from its place.

"Armando, it is a bit soon for me to be required when I just sorted so recently."

"I am sorry, Hat, but we require your assistance. Not necessarily a sorting. We need you to peak into this boy's mind," – here Dippet gestured to Harry – "And determine his level of threat." Albus approached, took the hat by its tip and the hat dropped onto Harry's head.

" _What do we have here..."_

Harry had enough occlumency training at this point to be able to actually feel the Hat's presence this time. Harry mentally gulped. And he could sense the Hat frowning as it sifted through Harry's memories. "Oh... oh no..." it said aloud.

The other men looked alert, but the Hat kept flipping. " _I'm getting a bit of a headache. But you can see why I'm trying to avoid saying too much to the professors._ "

" _I see the predicament. Yet as loathe as I am to admit it, those snoozers in front of you are good people. They can be entrusted with your fragile situation._ "

"Hat...?" Dippet inquired. "What have you discovered?"

The Hat was replaying the scene of Harry's death, to Harry's displeasure. "He is not a threat," the Sorting Hat said simply. "Powerful, yes, lots of potential and power..." Here the Hat flipped to Harry's memory of acquiring the Elder Wand and destroying Voldemort. "But he has had a life of suffering at the hands of Dark Wizards and is amongst the last people that would harm Hogwarts."

"While I am relieved to hear that, we still need more information," Dippet said.

There was a pause before the Hat just said, "The boy is a Potter from the future."

"Hey!" Harry shouted instinctively.

"Give me a break, they were going to fry you without something that big."

The other men looked in disbelief.

"Well then!" Dippet said excessively loudly, his fingers steepling. He stared with great focus into Harry's eyes. "I see we have a time traveler." There was a long pause as the knowledge set in. As it was not a question, Harry was not compelled to say anything but he threw in a "yes" for good measure.

Dippet continued. "It remains to be seen whether your existence here will maintain or change the future. Hat, can you provide assistance?"

"I am not omniscient. I can only tell you should let the boy do as he pleases. He has a fairly good head on his shoulders."

" _I do know Professor Dumbledore and Slughorn in the future and they never -_ "

" _I do hope you were not planning to say that out loud because I will take back my vetting._ Try to be careful about revealing information about people's futures _._ " Apparently the Hat said the last part aloud.

"Yes," Dippet said. "I used to work as an Unspeakable you know. Do not talk to anyone you know of their future, even if it is to acknowledge you know them. It can reaffirm that they will exist in whatever year you are from. Perhaps Albus will walk into a stampeding herd of gazelle on the assumption it would be safe."

Harry smiled a bit.

"There you go," Dippet said. "However. On the off chance we can't send you back, you may as well attend classes. Once you find the ritual, we can have another little meeting. Is that alright?"

"Yes, sir."

"Now for your identity. There will be plenty of Gryffindors – judging from your uniform – who will know you were not one of them. Tom Riddle and Winifred Vance know you were around this night, so we can't say you just dropped in. I'll come up with something." Dippet said the last part mostly to himself.

"You will remain in Gryffindor," Dumbledore said. Harry could not tell if it was just to watch him carefully or because he was adding to the whole "keep the story consistent" thing with Riddle and Winnie knowing he was a Gryffindor from Harry's uniform. Dumbledore reached into his desk drawer and waved his wand in a circular motion. A parchment on his desk suddenly generated writing. "This is a copy of a seventh year's timetable."

Harry took the parchment and looked it over. "Sir, my electives had been Divination and Care of Magical Creatures."

Dumbledore waved his wand again and Arithmancy was replaced by Care of Magical Creatures.

"As you are from the future I do not think Divination would be a good subject to take. However, Alchemy is a very popular elective this year -"

"Ah yes, Mr. Tom Riddle singlehandedly encouraged students around him to petition its opening," Slughorn added, obviously very proud of his Slytherin prefect.

Dumbledore had a look of disdain. "Yes. Well, since it is a temporary extracurricular, all of the sixth and seventh years will be on the same level. It will be headed by both myself and Professor Slughorn here and will allow us to work on your way home."

Harry nodded. "That is fair. I did not know you both had Alchemy Masteries though."

"We do not," Slughorn said. "But Albus here was apprentice to the great Nicholas Flamel and I have had a few alchemy classes while doing my mastery... Normally Flamel would take his time to teach, and his name had been on the petition..." He gave Dumbledore a significant glance.

"Nicholas Flamel passes on his regrets though he may come in for a guest lecture," Dumbledore said, and Harry understood the hidden truth underneath that. He was worried Riddle would try to extract the secrets of immortality from Flamel.

"I'm afraid I can not do anything about the missing OWLs in general but hopefully you will not be around long enough for anyone to take a close look that you are taking NEWT-level courses without the OWL scores to accompany it."

"Headmaster, I see the wheel is already rollling, but would it not be easier for the boy to stay holed up in empty private quarters until after we ascertain it is impossible for him to go home? That way there is no massive risk that a paradox will be created," Professor Dumbledore said.

Harry nodded again. He saw the logic in that. The pretty face of Winnie Vance winking at him popped in his mind. "There's.. something. Well, you see, the ritual was trying to help me find someone.. a true love... I think it was called a True Partner though I don't think the ritual was called that." Is this cheating on Ginny? Well, they were broken up, right?

Dumbledore's face fell. "I know of it. It is a German ritual."

Before Dumbledore could start being more suspicious again, Dippet half shouted, "Enough, Albus. The Hat has vetted the boy."

Harry added, "It's just a coincidence. You see my friend Hermione Granger found it in a German history book and I was just trying to make my girlfriend happy but then she broke up with me and I wanted to surprise her by having the potion take me to see her but the potion took me here instead," Harry took a breath. He noticed Dumbledore looked thoughtful. "And well, if my True Partner is in this era, perhaps I was meant to stay? And if I was meant to find true love in this era, then my presence shouldn't actually damage anything, correct?"

Dippet and Dumbledore exchanged glances, before Dumbledore had a peculiar expression cross his face. "Yes, well.. I suppose if you manage to find love here and it was the intention of the potion you could perhaps stay." Dumbledore looked resigned. "Love is a powerful magic. Very powerful indeed. I find myself accepting that its power has allowed you to do the impossible and go back in time and yet not cause a paradox. However, after Professor Slughorn and I take a look at your memory of your process and compare it with the ritual instructions we may be able to pinpoint whether it was a mistake or intentional. And still... I am suggesting we should wait until after this point before allowing the boy to join Hogwarts classes."

"Who was it that discovered you past curfew?" Dippet asked.

"Winifred Vance and Tom Riddle."

Dippet shook his head. "You won't be getting anything past those two. I'm afraid the damage has been done and we would raise less questions to allow him a quiet life as a student then to wait until much later. If the ritual was correctly performed than the boy is here with reason. If it was incorrectly performed, he may not be able to go home anyway, and I can not in good conscience allow him to life holed up in Hogwarts walls simply to allow the timeline the least amount of disturbance."

Dumbledore simply closed his eyes in defeat.

Dippet clapped. "That looks like we are all settled then. Now for the matter of logistics. What shall be your name and year?"

Harry made an 'o' with his mouth. "I am a seventh year... I told Winnie and Riddle that my name was Harium."

Slughorn gave a barking laugh.

"Let's just keep it Harry, for now but for official announcements I can be 'Harium.' I'm not sure about my last name."

Dippet closed his eyes as if thinking. "We will give you the surname Key. They are an old Wizarding family that died a while ago. It is well known that they had a series of squib children – quite a scandal – before disappearing from British high society and being discovered dead in Norway. It will give you enough to allow you to function with the other purebloods but without raising too many questions about your parentage and why you were not at Hogwarts from the start. We will say that Albus found you in a minor counterattack against the – who were they? The other week? The Grindelwald spies?"

"The attack on the Amsels?'

"Yes. That it was kept hush-hush but you had been kept as prisoner but now that we have cleaned you up you are now attending a proper school."

"Wouldn't Grindelwald supporters know?" Harry asked.

"Nonsense. The Amsels were spies and were notorious for keeping lots of secrets. It will be fine." Dippet nodded. Harry supposed that made sense. The only people who would have really known were already dead it seemed. "Now, I shall turn in for the evening. Good night, Albus, Horace." And Dippet left Dumbledore's office.

"I will see you soon, ah, Mr. Harium Key." And Slughorn also took his leave.

"Oh, uh, Professor Dumbledore," Harry pulled his glasses from his pocket. "I think one of the potion's effects was to alter my vision. Could you.. could you adjust their prescription?" Harry asked

Dumbledore nodded, distracted by a thought it seemed. "Certainly. Put them on, please."

Harry put his glasses on his face.

"A or B?" Dumbledore asked, reminiscent of an optometrist.

"B."

"C or D?"

"D."

And this dialogue went on until they found the correct adjustment. Harry blinked and looked around to make sure everything was alright. When he looked back at Dumbledore, the auburn haired professor was frowning again.

"Did you particularly like these glasses?" Dumbledore asked.

"Well.." Harry said, not knowing if it would tell too much of his future to reveal his home life. He went with a soft truth. "These were the most inexpensive glasses my guardians could find." Even if the Dursleys could have afforded more.

Dumbledore's eyes softened and he tapped the frames of Harry's glasses. Harry didn't notice too much of a change, but he took the glasses off and looked at them. They were rimless glasses.

"You have very lovely eyes. These are very fashionable currently, and if you are looking for love, perhaps it will be easier for your partner to find you if you didn't hide them behind those glasses."

"Thank you, Professor," Harry said gratefully. It occurred to him that he never asked if he could get his trademark frames changed.

"Good night now, Harry. I assume you know your way to the Gryffindor dormitory?" Dumbledore said, expecting Harry to leave.

Even if Dumbledore was warming up to Harry the stranger, it seemed Harry was still being tested. That annoyed Harry slightly but he realized he would have done the same in the middle of an active war. "Yes, I know my way, but I don't know the password..."

"Ahh, the password is: A brave heart will destroy the dark." And Dumbledore passed him a note to prevent Harry from being stopped by prefects or the caretaker.

Thanking Dumbledore again, Harry left. Slightly disoriented at the idea of leaving Dumbledore's office without having to step onto a moving staircase, he headed to his old yet new home.

As he walked to Gryffindor Tower, he cursed and hoped everyone would be asleep so he didn't have to explain his presence to anyone this late at night.

* * *

Please tell me what you think! I can't promise to take every reviewer's suggestions and throw them in, but let me know what you liked so I know which parts I should focus on as I develop the story. This isn't my first fanfic, but it's my first attempt at a long fic and I'd love all the support I can get! My writing needs some work and I apologize for that. I don't write as beautifully as my favorite authors but I'll try my best to entertain you!


	2. Our Lovely Cast

**Disclaimer:** I can only claim Poppy and Prof. Merrythought's backstory as well as Winifred, Mervin, and Michael. The rest belongs to the queen, JKR.

 **IMPORTANT:**

If you read chapter one when I first published it but haven't read my update yet, please please go back to chapter one to read the note. I've replaced the chapter and the note has important information as to why..

 **CHAPTER TWO. OUR LOVELY CAST**

Having been concerned that this was really Voldemort back from the dead and playing tricks on him, Harry had a hard time getting a restful sleep. So when morning came, and there were whispers from what sounded like his roommates, Harry wasn't too alarmed. He just wished they kept more quiet and maybe left him alone. He thought maybe if he kept pretending to sleep they'd leave him alone to hunt down the ritual or his true love and not get killed again by Voldemort in the process.

"Oy who's this bloke?" said a roommate, really loudly.

Immediately the others shushed the source of annoyance, but Harry decided to actually wake up anyway. He opened his eyes and there were several boys standing around his bed trying to look at his face. Apparently the sound came from a ginger boy, probably a Weasley. A pang of homesickness hit Harry hard, and he wondered if he was betraying Ginny by being here and thinking of the pretty yet still sort of unattainable Winnie. Maybe he should just go home. Hermione must have made a mistake. So far, other than three old men, Harry has only met a witch who prefers witches and a monster by the name of Tom Riddle. Wasn't the ritual supposed to take him straight to his true love? Maybe the potion went wrong due to taking place in the Room of Requirement or just in Hogwarts in general. Or maybe he drew the ritual lines wrong. Or maybe he was given bad instructions by Hermione.

He'd think about it later, there's only so much time he could dwell on it and lie in bed while a bunch of Gryffindors stared anxiously for him to 'get out of being drowsy' and fully acknowledge their presence.

Apparently the probably-Weasley couldn't wait any longer because he spoke again, "Well, go on then! What's your name?"

"I'm... Harry..." he said while grabbing his new-like glasses off the nearby nightstand.

"Good to meet you, Harry," said another boy, who was standing away from Harry's bed and near his own, leaning against a post. "I'm Bartemius Crouch, but you can call me Barty; everyone does anyway." Harry didn't know Crouch was a Gryffindor. "Sorry about him-" Crouch lifted his chin to indicate the ginger, "- he's a Weasley."

Harry couldn't help it. He laughed, relieving a lot of tension from before.

"Oy! I deserve a name, you know! I'm Mervin. Mervin Weasley." The boy gave a wide grin, freckles prominently shining on his cheeks due to the morning light.

"You can be Weasley No. 3 when I take over the government," suggested Crouch.

"That's a good number," said a brown haired boy near Harry. "You should take it, Mervin."

"He's the oldest of two," said another boy at the foot of his bed, who then decided to sit on Harry's bed as they all chatted. "It's just him and Gawain but they have a large extended family."

"I heard from my mother, that Cedrella is going to have another son. I bet his name will be Arthur."

"You lie!"

"Ten galleons that's the case."

"You're on!"

"Weasley, you don't have ten galleons to your name."

And as Harry watched this bantering he smiled. He could get used to this. It must mean that this Mervin was probably one of Ron's uncles, maybe even the drunk one from the wedding. They were still going back and forth when there was a knock on their doors. "Breakfast, boys!" came a gentle female voice through it.

"Yes, mother!"

The boys started leaving and someone shouted a "We'll wait for you in the common room." Genuinely excited, Harry who had slept in his uniform, just got up to wash up quickly before catching up.

As he came down the stairs, he heard: "Oh my word. I thought you boys were playing some sort of joke. There _is_ a new Gryffindor," from the female voice he heard earlier. Finding the source of the sound, his eyes met a very petite girl with a small face but sharp features. She had thin light brown hair that reached mid neck and her hair was tucked behind her ears. Her chin was held upright, quite confident in spite of being half the size of the Gryffindor boys around her. Harry thought she was demure in a cute way. And since when was he so interested in women so easily? He was never like this back home. Was it the potion's effects? Everyone was gathered waiting for him.

"You know, Poppy," said a tall black boy from the dorm earlier, "You should really believe us when we tell you things more often-"

WHACK. "Ow!" Poppy must have grabbed the Prophet on the nearby table because she had just smacked Mervin over the head with it.

And it occurred to Harry that this could be That Poppy. Madame Pomfrey of the Hospital Wing. Poppy Pomfrey? He could have sworn she would have been a Hufflepuff or a Ravenclaw. He can't just assume everyone looks like people from the future when they could have relatives he didn't know about.

"What was that for?! I wasn't even saying anything! You're supposed to hit Michael!" Poppy didn't look regretful in the least while Mervin simply rubbed his head where she hit it.

"Michael" covered his mouth as he snickered to himself while Poppy whacked Mervin a second time, albeit with less force.

"You started the nickname, you deal with the consequences," she said curtly. "Come on. Let's go. Harry, we'll show you to the Great Hall." She made a move to turn towards the portrait before turning to look at Harry again. "My name is Pippa, by the way. I'm The Head Girl at Hogwarts. I'm a bit surprised no one notified me that a new student needed a guide."

He followed after them, realizing he's supposed to be pretending to be new. During the walk, the Gryffindor seventh years chatted amicably. Or well it seemed like the entire seventh year's boys dorm and Pippa did. Unless Pippa was the only seventh year girl in Gryffindor? A bunch of boys surrounding one girl. That had to be strange looking from a third party perspective.

At the confused look on Harry's face, Michael seemed to be able to guess what it was for: "Poppy had a rough time getting along with her fellow Gryff girls back in first year so we sort of brought her in. In turn, she mother hens in us and makes sure we all get our homework done."

Harry nodded, smiling. He never knew Poppy and Hermione were so similar. Both caring, lovely people. Intelligent to the core and completely willing to call people out on their horrible behavior. If he didn't know any better, he would have thought that Poppy and Mervin would end up married or dating one day. Unless Poppy kept her maiden name? Harry didn't hear of that happening at all, though perhaps Muggleborns would do it. Was Poppy a Muggleborn? That would raise the level of similarities to an unusual high.

Harry briefly entertained the thought that Hermione came with him and had been living as Poppy Pomfrey this entire time as a consequence of her time turner.

As they walked in, Harry passively scanned the room, only to realize that Tom Riddle was staring at their group, or maybe straight at Harry. Harry wanted nothing to do with Voldemort. If his true love was in this era he would either take her with him or kill of Voldemort before the Horcrux problem got too involved. Thank goodness the one in his scar was already taken care of. He didn't have to die again. Harry focused on Poppy's backside.

"So, Harry, do you play?" Michael asked.

"Play what?" Harry returned, having to look up at Michael.

Michael laughed. "Quidditch of course! I'm team captain. It's early enough in the year that we haven't started tryouts yet so you've still got a chance. You're small but you seem to be hiding some power under those robes." He seemed to be squinting at Harry as if trying to see what Harry's form was like.

Harry wasn't sure about joining the team. He really wanted to, but the last thing he needed was records written in the Hall of Trophies that a Harry Potter was playing for the Gryffindor team back in the 1940s. Michael's words reminded him that he should probably determine what the exact date was some time soon. "I do play but I don't know if I should try out. I'm not really supposed to be drawing too much attention to myself..." Michael's face fell. "But I do love flying. Maybe a pick up game some time? I played seeker."

Michael seemed to cheer up at that.

It seemed perhaps Dippet was waiting for Harry to come in because not too longer after, there was a light tapping of a spoon on a goblet sourced from the head table. At once all chatter stopped and the students turned. Professor Dippet rose from his seat; all eyes were on him.

"It is usually too early in the day for announcements, but lest I mention it now, the rumor wills would have created wild stories before dinner could come. Please allow me to introduce Mr. Harium Key..."

Harry felt rather than saw Riddle lose his composure for a fraction of a second at the absurdity. So short no one else would have noticed but Harry was so in tune with Riddle's magic, it wasn't hard to notice the brief leak of magic.

"... who insists that you call him Harry. He will be attending classes and attempting to catch up on schooling. Professors Dumbledore and Slughorn have volunteered to help. He was rescued from the war efforts, and as his family roots can be traced to British soil, please give a warm welcome home."

There was an applause from the three-quarters-filled room, from students very shocked to receive a new student. Mervin whooped next to him, while Pippa/Poppy patted him cheerfully on his shoulder. Harry could have sworn five copies of Hogwarts: A History appeared on the Ravenclaw table as students tried to determine how rare of an occurrence this was. And there were suddenly whispered theories of how he came to be a "rescue." Looks like things never changed for him. This was far too much attention for his liking and he quickly drank some pumpkin juice so people got the hint and stopped staring.

After breakfast, "We have Defense first. Let's go, come on!" said an eager Barty Crouch. His excitement was uncharacteristic, but what did he know of Crouch anyway? Harry noticed a sudden grim expression on Poppy's face. He would have thought the perhaps future-Mediwitch would appreciate learning defense.

Harry's Defense Against the Dark Arts class was taught by Professor Merrythought who was nothing he could have imagined. From her name it seemed as if she was going to be a happy cheery woman like Pomona Sprout. Maybe a little chubby, with rosy cheeks and the like.

Instead, he noticed students perhaps unconsciously filing in somewhat like a military as they entered the classroom. Not a single person took their seats yet. From the uniforms, he noted this class was shared with Slytherins, and Harry positioned himself between the large Michael and the more attention drawing Mervin. He had enough attention and here he wasn't even the Boy Who Lived or the Chosen One. But it appeared to be for naught because the professor who was standing straight, arms clasped behind her back was following Harry the entire time. She had a prominent chin, her greying brown hair tied up in a tight low bun.

Harry tried to show no fear.

"You may be seated." Promptly all students sat.

"Mr. Key," she started almost immediately. He knew it was coming. This couldn't be good. "As you are a new student, I find myself interested in testing you, as I am unaware of how good of a defense student you may be. Would you care for a demonstration?" At least she wasn't Snape during first year.

"Certainly," Harry said, prepared to fake moderate training. Harry got up awkwardly to head to the front of the classroom, but the moment he stood from his seat, a blue light shot towards him.

As he was again in enemy territory - stupid Riddle -, he had been on alert all day. He was much more prepared than he was last night. Without wasting a moment, he leaped over the desk to dodge the danger and from a crouching position sent a stunner back at the source of the attack less than a moment later. Harry proceeding to shuffle to another spot, wand at the ready.

Yet, no more spells came. And he heard no other movement, not even from the students who remained seated in their desks. And the stunner he sent hadn't gotten to their target, his mind finally caught up to his body and pointed out that the stunner had ricocheted innocently to the back of the classroom.

Professor Merrythought was clapping. Then the whole class was as well.

Another applause in less than an hour? Way to not draw attention to yourself, Potter.

Harry realized that this was the test, and allowed his body the luxury of relaxing while he was on the floor. As he stood up, he noticed his classmates watching him both in fear and in awe.

The corner of Merrythoughts lips turned up. "Very good, I find myself doubting that you had to be rescued at all...," she said, the words of doubt hanging in the air. Maybe this ruse would be more difficult than Harry assumed. "Five points to Gryffindor. You should consider joining the Auror Academy when you graduate." The coincidence was not lost on Harry. "There is a Battle Club that meets Friday late afternoon. Please sign up from your common room bulletin."

That also didn't sound like an optional from her tone.

Knowing a dismissal when he heard it, Harry brushed off dirt from his uniform, danger no longer being an issue and walked to his desk. Barty, mouth slightly ajar, looked at him as if he was seeing Harry for the first time. That's disturbing. Inspired by Harry it seemed, Merrythought spent the next period lecturing about the importance of hiding places and vigilance during times of war.

When it ended, everything at first seemed normal. As students were leaving the classroom, Merrythought said, "Pippa, please stay after class."

Harry didn't think that sounded good at all. Poppy didn't look happy about the request either, and her group shared worried glances. They all shuffled out anyway.

As the door shut with just Poppy and Merrythought in the classroom, Harry saw Pippa's head already bent down in apprehension. Harry looked to the others. "What's going on? Pippa hadn't said a word the entire period. Is Merrythought dangerous?"

A few of the group had confused faces. Michael had raised eyebrows. "Oh, you don't know." He shook his head. "Of course you wouldn't... Merrythought is Poppy's mum."

Poppy was Pippa Merrythought? Poppy was the daughter of a borderline battle hungry defense professor? Maybe this wasn't the same Poppy Pomfrey he would love like a mother decades later. She looked similar to Poppy Pomfrey though. After Harry finished processing his thoughts, which admittedly took a lot longer than he was expecting, Poppy stepped out, looking thoroughly admonished and slightly teary. "Let's go," she said forcefully as they walked over to Herbology.

When they got on the grounds on the way to the greenhouses, Mervin said, "Poppy, what was that about? AGH- "

Michael punched Mervin in the gut, and Mervin, partially caved in, started grumbling about how it's not okay when Michael does it because he has muscles from being a Beater.

"It's okay. Mum gave me a tongue lashing because she found out I didn't sign up for Battle Club yet. Said I can't expect to head the DMLE one day if I don't do the right extracurriculars... And demanded I sign up tonight."

"You told her that you didn't want to go into law enforcement, right?" Michael asked. Yes, Poppy in law enforcement would have been particularly unusual. More so if this was the future Poppy Pomfrey. Though he thought it would be amusing to see Poppy hitting Dark Wizards with her wand. This wasn't the time nor the place, however. She was clearly upset at the confrontation.

Five steps of silence. "... No..."

One of the guys whom Harry still didn't know the name of rubbed Poppy's shoulder in a placating manner. "You'll have another chance."

Three steps of silence. Harry coughed. "So, uh, Pippa, what did you want to do after graduation?"

"I'm not sure," she said sadly. "I'm book smart but I'm not very quick with a wand. Mum knows that but she's in denial. She's been hinting that I take the paper track of being in the DMLE but I don't want to do that either."

"She only wants what's best for you," Crouch said, not really helping at all. Harry was reminded of Crouch's future as a Head of the DMLE. The unnamed boy rolled his eyes and stage whispered to Harry that Barty was slightly obsessed with Professor Merrythought.

"Maybe I'll go into teaching," Poppy provided. "I'm pretty good with Charms, Herbology, and Potions."

Harry wanted to suggest healing but bit his tongue.

He still wasn't completely sure this was his Poppy Pomfrey. If she was, he was sure Poppy would discover healing on her own anyway.

Herbology came and went mostly without event.

There was a smiling, thin almost frail blonde girl with short slightly curled hair who tried to sit next to Harry but Crouch took the chair and uncharacteristically said, "Shove it, Ellie!" The nice and friendly looking girl, still smiling, gave Crouch a rude gesture before sitting with the other Gryffindor females.

It was after lunch when Harry finally had some alone time, everyone going their separate ways for their free period. Apparently the group wasn't completely stuck like glue, they were just together for the standard classes and meals.

Harry decided to head to the loo. And while there he was finally able to check the date. He knew according to his Time Table that it was either a Monday or a Wednesday but needed more detail. Turns out, it was September 8, 1943. A Wednesday.

That would make it Riddle's sixth year, Harry calculated before admonishing himself for once again making Voldemort the center of his universe. And then as he was washing his hands, he was reminded that Moaning Myrtle had just died less than a year ago.

Had she even laid claim to her bathroom yet? Harry was curious. But he shouldn't have to be. If he was just a few months early...and if he was allowed to change the course of history Myrtle wouldn't have been there when The Basilisk was out again. And if Myrtle hadn't died, Hagrid wouldn't have been expelled.

His hands clenched. Tom Riddle did so much damage and he had only just taken his OWLS last year.

"Something the matter?" said a smooth and familiar voice from a few feet away. Speak of the devil and he shall appear: Tom Riddle, in the flesh.

Harry controlled his expression to be impassive before turning around, his wand in his sleeve ready to be used if necessary.

"You're very on guard aren't you, Key?" Riddle said, not even trying to reach for his wand. He was leaning on the door, casually. As if he was untouchable.

Harry didn't rise to the bait. Was Riddle looking for him? If he needed to use the loo, the entire bathroom was empty. So he said as if there was nothing wrong, "If you're here for the loo and need me to leave, I could step out for you."

Tom didn't even blink. "Funny."

The air was tense. Probably a full five seconds of them staring each other passed, Tom looking as if he were calculating something and Harry trying to keep off an expression of pure hate, before Tom pulled out what Harry supposed was his usually most effective charming smile. "We got off on the wrong foot the other night." Was that all Riddle thought it was? In his perspective that would make sense, Harry surmised. "Of course you wouldn't have known about a curfew if you had just gotten to Hogwarts...

"How about I make it up to you by teaching you a spell some time?"

Private lessons with a dark lord in training. Joy. The idea of a private lesson with Tom Riddle sent a tingling feeling up Harry's spine. It felt like chills, but warm, instead. Either way, it made him feel completely on edge. He had to leave. But Riddle either didn't notice Harry's displeasure or noticed and wanted to keep going anyway.

Riddle continued, "The headmaster said you'd be getting private tutoring with Dumbledore and Slughorn. But besides teaching core curriculum and being heads of houses, Dumbledore's deputy duties.. Slughorn's Slug Club, I can't imagine them having too much free time on their hands."

It was oh, so rational. But Harry wasn't falling for it... whatever 'it' and his intentions could possibly be. The easy way Riddle manipulated was too frightening.

"Thanks, but no thanks." Harry turned his body away to signal the end of the conversation and walk out. He glanced up at Riddle just to make sure he wouldn't try anything, and Riddle still had a friendly mask on, but his eyes were still cold and calculating as they followed Harry. Tom Marvolo Riddle was so clearly a psychopath and it was like only he and Dumbledore could see it.

Over the rest of the day, Harry learned a few more things. One of the Gryffindors in his year was a half-blood named Ben Solomon who was obsessed with the overlaps of World War II and the Grindelwald War. Apparently he had Jewish cousins living in Germany and he desperately wanted to become of age to help his family survive. ("One part of me is glad I'm safe in Hogwarts, but I've got family to protect, and if it means I have to Apparate into a warzone to do it, I will." This prompted Poppy to throw a mountain of cake in front of Solomon to distract him from thoughts of war.)

Michael, whose surname was Johnson like Harry's former Quidditch teammate, was apparently dating Ravenclaw fifth year prefect Grace Shacklebolt.

After dinner and getting "instructions" on how to get to the library, Harry attempted to find the book on German history. He looked in the appropriate section and looked for the red book with the ugly brown trimming with the title he had seen before. Deutsche G.. 18... something something. He pulled out several books that looked like the target, only to panic after spending nearly an hour in the stacks. It wasn't there. Why wasn't it there?

It was his source of freedom. Either to return back to Ginny's arms – because he was sure she would take him back – or the knowledge that he could try to start something with someone here – or at least the knowledge that he was stuck here and just get used to this place. There were so much that needed answering and that book would be the source, he just knew it.

He hoped it wasn't checked out and it was perhaps placed somewhere else.

He went to the front desk to the librarian. "Excuse me, could you help me find a book on German history?"

The librarian raised an eyebrow. "Which one?"

"I'm not really sure... It was a red book with a little bit of brown in it?"

"Unfortunately that is not descriptive enough for me to identify it. What were the topics it covers? I can find something comparable."

"There was a ritual in it. I think it's about the 18th century."

The Madame thought. "I am unsure of how to help you. Perhaps you can try again in a week or two when the student who has it returns it. German history is a popular topic at the moment."

"Could you please hold the book when it gets returned? If you see it matching your description?"

"Certainly."

Cursing mentally, he said a thank you before heading out.

Worry descended on him. What if the book wasn't even written yet? He wasn't even sure of that. It's possible the book didn't exist, in which case the trio of old men would have to base it on Harry's pensieve memory and Harry wasn't even sure if he got enough of a glance of the book to really make a difference. Harry wanted to pull out his hair. He'd try again every day, as often as he can, for when the book shows up. In three weeks, he'd panic again.

It seemed like a waste of a trip when he saw a familiar face, sitting alone at a table. Winnie had her hair thrown over one shoulder, shoulders hunched as she leaned on her table. She was trying to crank out a paper, it appeared.

Winifred must have heard his footsteps and smiled as he approached her. Harry sat in front of her.

"Hey there! I can't believe you were a new student. How was your first day at Hogwarts as a student?"

"It's been great! My dormmates have been nothing but wonderful. I didn't mean to bother you though, what are you working on?"

Winnie was chewing on her quill. "Oh, hm. This? It's an early start on Slughorn's 10 inches on Felix Felicis. No worries."

Harry stared at the notebook beside her filled with circles and letters. That was definitely Muggle paper. There were so many Muggle notebooks he knew of in his life, and it was bothering him immensely that it was here. The cover was blue and grey, however. So it wasn't the horcrux. And of course, since it was with Winnie, it probably wouldn't have Riddle's name on it. She looked embarrassed by his staring. "It's great for keeping my thoughts in one place instead of binding my parchment after the fact. You don't have a problem with it do you? Muggle artifacts?"

Both of Harry's eyebrows went up. "Not at all. I just didn't realize you were Muggleborn."

"Oh. I'm not. I was raised in wizarding parts. The Joneses are my neighbors though I suppose you might not know the Joneses. My father is first generation pureblood and my mother is a muggleborn. But this notebook is actually a gift from Riddle."

Winifred Vance had to cover her mouth to keep from laughing at the look on Harry's face. There was no way Riddle gave a gift. None. Whatsoever.

"You must be joking."

"Well... to be precise, Riddle only _returns the favor_. And only because he would think it would cause a debt between the gifter and himself. Oh believe me, he is very, very good at gifting too," she said, smiling wide. Harry shook his head. "No, really. It's as if he has mental stores of information on everyone...

"It's quite sad really. In our first year or so people managed to discover that he does it, like the polite gentleman he is. And you see back then he was a plain old Muggleborn in Slytherin. His fellow Slytherins absolutely hated him for it. So when they realized Riddle gave back a gift no matter what, they made a game of it. They tried to eradicate the few sickles Riddle happened to have from his scholarship as a Ward of the school."

Harry couldn't imagine that working.

"Eventually they stopped. At first it was little comebacks. Adelon Carrow received a homemade ointment to enlarge a particular appendage.. if you know what I'm saying... And Georgia Parkinson who at the time didn't realize she had bad body odour got a bunch of sweet smelling flowers... all probably from picked from the surrounding plant life at the castle.

"This was all very public by the way. They came in by morning post. But the cruel attempts kept coming. Then one day an owl comes in with a package. Walburga Black got her gift. It was a beautifully crafted wooden box with runes written over it. The size of a large vase. At first no body could figure it out what on earth it could be. But one of the older Slytherins goes and looks at the runes and starts translating out loud. It was stuff like 'preservation' and 'rodents' and 'peace' before Abraxas Malfoy goes white - you know more than he normally is - and says '...it's a coffin.'

"Riddle who is completely indifferent and was buttering his toast goes 'I hope you get some use out of it, Walburga.' And Black suddenly bursts into tears and runs out of the Great Hall. No one bothered Riddle after that. I got the full story afterward... Apparently Walburga's owl was found torn to shreds by other animals the night before."

Harry was slackjawed. That was... that was...

Beautifully resourceful, finished one part of Harry. "That's terrifying," he said instead.

"Well, yes... in one sense of the word. Oh, and the best part of all of this is that Riddle effectively profited from the whole debacle. I think it's why it was dragged out so long. A lot of these were rich purebloods giving somewhat valuable things to him, and Riddle was giving them back items worth less than knuts each! I heard that dolt Jason Crabbe gave Riddle expensive jewelry. It's why the Riddle you see today isn't dressed in rags like he had back when we were all younger. He liquidated a lot of those possessions."

"I don't understand, how can you condone this?," Harry said softly. If the owl was discovered that evening.. well Harry supposed it was entirely possible that Riddle woke up early just to plot a very finishing revenge.

Winnie frowned, seeming to think while looking at Harry. "Come on, Harry. Come at it from a different angle. A bunch of rich, bullies were collectively picking on this twelve year old poor orphan Muggleborn. And not even just pick on... but intentionally trying to take what little he already had. Instead of getting physical, he smothers them into submission with just his intellect and magic. Not as if Riddle personally killed Black's owl just to make this all happen," Winnie waved her hand dismissively. "And you know to make it all worse, if it wasn't the purebloods who looked down on him for his blood status and the audacity of being sorted into Slytherin, it was a lot of others who discriminated against the house. After though, he became something like a Muggleborn hero."

Harry snorted mentally. Lord Voldemort, the role model of all Muggleborn students everywhere. "You say these things and yet you aren't friends?" he said seriously.

She shook her head. "No one is just friends with Riddle. He was always very quiet, and I admit he can be mean-spirited when people are in his way" – mean-spirted was putting it lightly, Harry thought – "but for the most part he's... friendly. Not a single student in this school has a problem with him now. The Slytherins all sort of changed their mind over the years.. he's somewhat like their king now, it's a bit unusual... but no. If anything, I would say he's my friend but I'm not his friend." She nodded, as if solidifying those words in her mind and went back to her studying.

The words ate away at Harry a little. To hear someone so genuinely nice like Winifred defending Tom Riddle... no one ever did that back where he was from...

At the same time though, she didn't know everything Harry did. One person's nice words wouldn't just change his mind about the monster hiding behind the mask. He said a brief, "I'll think about what you said," while she went back to scribbling some notes for her paper.

It's hard to tell someone that the person they're defending was actually a cold blooded murderer and was capable of causing a tragic "accident" like the death of an owl... that a 12 year old poor, orphan Muggle-raised – like usual, Harry ignored the similarities between them – but yet oh so brilliant could one day start a war over the mass-genocide of a people... that this same boy would one day kill his parents and attempt to kill Harry.

"One more thing?" Harry said.

"Yes?" And Winifred looked at him with those beautifully clear blue eyes and Harry forgot what he was saying momentarily.

"Um, I was wondering... I heard that there are these Hogsmeade weekends, and uhh... I know you said you aren't interested in wizards, but..."

She pieced together the implied request. "OH. Oh." She looked to be thinking about it seriously. "Well..." she trailed off again and suddenly, Winifred looked to be staring elsewhere. Harry started to follow her gaze but she slammed her books closed. "Look I have to go. We can... we can maybe talk about this some other time." And she said the next part in a hurried whisper, "You're sweet, Harry. It's why I like you but maybe later."

And she nearly ran out of the library.

A piece of parchment that must have flown off the table in her frenzy landed gently on the ground. He reached over and grabbed, noting it was the first few sentences of her paper before pocketing it to return to her later. He made a brief note to get a book bag soon.

But Harry leaned back, confused. Was she offended that he asked? He wasn't trying to mess with her sexual orientation just for fun... it was her who had mentioned yesterday evening that she would have made an exception for him. He got up, knowing tomorrow would bring some interesting classes. As he pushed in his seat, he looked into the spot that Winifred was looking at earlier.

And there was Tom Riddle, lounging on his side, his lean and tall body lying elegantly on the couch, while he propped himself up with an elbow. He was just... reading a book, but his body was completely facing Harry and Winnie's table. Riddle looked up and met Harry's gaze from across the library, and suddenly it was as if time stopped. Riddle's lips turned up slowly while staring back with great intensity.

And just like Winifred had just moments ago, Harry fled the library.

* * *

Hope you liked it! I really loved writing this chapter! It was so fun to put together. And sorry for making Tom Riddle seemed like an awful person, but remember both that Harry still believes he hates Voldemort to his core, and in canon, Tom Riddle has killed more than once at this point.


	3. He's Hot and He's Cold

**CHAPTER THREE. He's Hot and He's Cold**

During Transfiguration, Harry managed to ask about getting a bookbag because he was having trouble with carrying the few possessions he had around the school. Dumbledore went into his office while everyone practiced animating the practice dolls on their desks. Eventually, the professor came out with a very simple leather satchel and pulled Harry aside. "It's transfigured from an old robe. It should hold what you need until Hogsmeade weekend."

"Thank you, Professor."

Dumbledore stroked his growing beard, before casting a wandless privacy charm. "Do you have funds available? I'm afraid that since you are not an official ward of the school that we can't provide anything yet."

"It's fine," Harry said. He couldn't survive on pocket change for long but it was enough, as he attempted to determine his situation here in 1943. "I had my coin pouch on me. I have some galleons and sickles available still." It was less than what Hermione, daughter of dentists, would carry in her mokeskin but still far more than what Ginny would carry on her.

"And were you able to locate the book containing your ritual?"

Harry shook his head and explained that it was possible the book was on loan since it was a popular, relevant topic. Dumbledore accepted the response and let Harry return to the practice doll.

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On Friday, he had to find his way to the alchemy classroom on his own. His yearmates hadn't elected to take the new class so he was going to be on his own.

But there was a problem at lunch.

He couldn't find his bookbag. At first he hadn't been alarmed but when he held out his hand and cast an Accio and still the bag didn't show up, Harry started to suspect there could be something more sinister afoot. Frowning, he took out his want and tried again, thinking he was perhaps tired. Nothing.

"Has anyone seen my bookbag?" Harry asked his friends. They each either shook their head or said an audible no. Alchemy was soon about to start, so he left, needing to give up and investigate later.

When he got to the classroom, he found his bag lying innocently beside the door. He stood there, perplexed, before slowly grabbing it. Harry thought someone must have gotten it for him from maybe the common room or when he went to the loo, but he thought he brought his bag with him to lunch. Why would someone take it from him? And why did the bag not come when he accio'd it? He was able to call a broom during the fourth task from many many meters away an through castle walls. Also, if it was stolen, there wasn't anything valuable in his bag... nothing certainly looked missing. He still kept his coin pouch on his person on the off chance he left this era on his own. He decided to think about it later.

He entered the classroom. Winnie was there – and this was the first time he saw her in a classroom setting since they were in different years – but she was sitting with her fellow Ravenclaws. She mouthed a "sorry" to him before returning to her conversation. Harry sat alone at an empty table toward the back of the room. He looked around, trying to find another recognizable face. There were a couple of seventh years he might have seen before. But something was off, as if his mind was trying to remind him there was something he should remember about this course.

When the seat beside Harry was pulled from the table and essentially became occupied, he remembered what he was supposed to be wary of.

Tom Riddle petitioned for this very new course. Which means in spite of Riddle being a sixth year and Harry being a seventh year, the Dark Lord could choose to sit next to Harry in class. The Boy-Who-Lived, _the Boy-Who-Defeated-The-Dark-Lord_ , was sitting right next to the very dark lord Harry was supposed to defeat fifty years from now. He thought Hermione would find that hilarious.

"What do you think you're doing?" Harry hissed.

Tom shrugged, falsely good-natured, as if Harry was the crazy one. "Occupying a seat."

Slughorn was apparently the instructor today for this co-instructed course. "Good afternoon, everyone. As Dumbledore may or may not have mentioned last week, we will be trading off on this course. We'll hope it to make it worth your while. I know some of you opted to drop an elective course in order to make room for Alchemy... The way the two of us approach this course will be a bit different as we approach it from different angles. For my portion of this course, however, there will be partnered work."

Sod. All.

"So it is a wonderful thing that Mr. Key here evens out our classroom just in time for my turn to instruct. For this first project, to make sure we all get started as soon as possible, you'll be partnered with the person sharing your table."

Harry just stared at a spot in front of him. Partnering with Riddle? There was no "working" with Riddle. You either worked FOR him or AGAINST him. Not WITH him. Harry's mind wouldn't stop either attempting to find a way out of this situation. It was hard to focus on the lecture.

Just why was Riddle so focused on Harry? It's not as if there's a horcrux with part of Riddle's soul stuck in Harry's forehead. As far as Riddle knew, Harry was a random boy who showed up in the middle of the night past curfew. Harry wasn't even particularly mean or angry at Riddle. Harry had been trying his absolute hardest to just be indifferent. Harry didn't talk to any Slytherins either, so it's not as if they would have said anything about Harry.

As far as Harry could tell there were only two things that could plausibly be the reason Riddle had an unwarranted fascination with him. One, that the Key family had some sort of significance Harry didn't know of. Or two, that Riddle was secretly interested in Winifred Vance and saw Harry as a threat. And since two would only be a realistic if Riddle were any normal red-blooded man, it was probably reason one. But Harry would keep an eye on how Riddle interacted around Winifred anyway. More than ever, Harry wanted to get Winnie alone with him in private so they could finish that conversation about getting a date and seeing how Riddle would react.

And as Harry thought this, he had a sinking, strong suspicion that Riddle might have stolen his bookbag. There's nothing he could prove, but when something went wrong in Harry's life, there's always a good bet that Voldemort was behind it. And he probably would have stolen Harry's bag to what? Learn more about Harry's possessions? Find the best way to bother Harry by partnering up with him?

"... all items are constructed from tiny, tiny bits almost invisible to the naked eye because of how small they are. Surrounding these bits is aether. Aether moves around freely, but this movement allows objects to maintain their properties. Different objects have different types of aether and even the best alchemists in the world have been unable to truly understand the properties of bits and aether. What we do know is that out there in the world, there are catalysts. These catalysts are able to disrupt the bits and aether so that when you combine objects in a cauldron and effectively apply the catalyst, the two materials in the cauldron become something completely different. Something you can't undo with a spell. You can't throw a potion at it to reverse the process."

Harry thought that explanation sounded a lot like Muggle science. He didn't know that much about Muggle science, but he had tried to read some of Dudley's books when he was bored one summer. The pictures and diagrams did a good job breaking down the basic concepts.

Slughorn proceeded to draw their attention to a glass cauldron for the demonstration. He took some pumpkin juice and what looked to be some animal's eggshells. A few girls in the classroom murmured disgust. Harry couldn't blame them. That looked horrid. Taking a sparkling crystal-like rod from beside the cauldron, he stirred the contents of the cauldron.

After a few stirs, the contents in the cauldron began to turn a milky white. Slughorn ladled some out into a goblet. "Milk," Slughorn said. There were some gasps. "Anyone want to try?" No one volunteered. "Suit yourselves. Slughorn took a drink.

"This is one of the most practiced demonstrations of alchemic procedure. This rod here is made from zircon and was energized by the touch of a live unicorn's horn. In spite of what you may think, it is in no way a wand. As the most common catalyst, you will each be given one magically charged zircon rod." Slughorn walked around and handed them each a rod contained within a solid colored box lined with glass and then lined with cushioning. "I would limit your attempts to use magic on it. Avoid calling it with an accio or shrinking it, for example. You want to minimize corrupting the magic."

"Professor," called Tom Riddle. "Could combining any two materials and using this rod turn something into gold?"

Harry narrowed his eyes. Dumbledore was right. Riddle was interested in the Philosopher's Stone. Had Voldemort really been seeking it for fifty years? Talk about something that was absolutely not a surprise.

Slughorn laughed heartily. "O ho! Good question. Metals are one of the most difficult materials to transmutate. Gold is almost impossible. There is only one known catalyst that can successfully change items into gold... Oh, no Mr. Riddle, I'm not sure how to obtain it. But an expert – the great Nicholas Flamel – will be here later in the year to provide a lecture on the subject.

"So those of you planning on entering the honorable field of potions work, understanding what is transmutable and what is a catalyst and avoiding the combination of them will be part of your job. This, opposed to the alchemists who are actually trying to combine them." Slughorn laughed at his own non-joke.

Slughorn spent the rest of the double period lecturing and giving them all the opportunity to do their own small transmutation.

Harry took a look at the nearby clock and noticed the class coming to an end. "Your project until you see me again in this classroom two weeks from now is to go out to the edge of the Forbidden Forest – only during daylight! Do not search when night falls – and discover items that when combined can be transmutated using the zircon rod and write a combined report on your findings. If you are unable to find something to be transmutated but write, let's say at least 18 inches on your search, you will still get a passing grade on the assignment as a team who writes 6 inches but manages to discover a transmutation."

A sixth year Hufflepuff raised her hand. "Couldn't this be dangerous?"

Slughorn laughed. "Good question. But don't worry. This has been the traditional first project on Alchemy for centuries. There's nothing that hasn't been discovered and nothing that will do any harm as long as you do it when the light is out and at the edge of the Forest. Anyone else? .. Okay. Dismissed."

Harry looked at his zircon rod and into his transfigured bookbag. Would that be a bad combination? He asked and Slughorn gave him two points for forward thinking and applying a lesson from class. But Slughorn said it would be fine. The box was designed for people transporting the rod with their wands.

"So when do you want to meet up to go to the Forbidden Forest?" Riddle asked.

Harry really detested the idea of Voldemort and the Forbidden Forest in combination for obvious reasons.

Harry grunted. "I'll let you know once I get an idea of my schedule."

He expected Riddle to get up and leave, but Riddle had that calculating look on his face again as he looked down at Harry. Harry could almost see the gears turning. It was making Harry nervous. What was that monster thinking? Harry wouldn't drop his gaze though, out of proud, or out of not wanting to show weakness. He wasn't sure. He thought they might have been attracting attention from the surrounding students still sticking around and chatting.

Riddle must have settled on something because suddenly...

With no explanation...

Riddle looked away, and Harry was washed with a feeling of cold. Not chilly in the sense he needed to put on a jumper, but cold on the inside.

"What was that?" Harry asked, irritated. Another plot?

"What was what?" Riddle raised an eyebrow, still more concerned about carefully placing his zircon rod neatly away. Harry thought he looked... genuinely ignorant of what just happened. Riddle put his bookbag on and said a very dismissive, "Just talk to me when you get it all sorted it."

Harry couldn't help it. He just stared at Riddle walking out of the classroom as if Harry was someone completely worthless and unimportant. As if he had more important things to deal with. That was.. new. To be treated like basically how Tom Riddle treated everyone else in the world.

On the surface, Harry was relieved. Maybe Riddle finally decided that Harry was no longer interesting and would leave him alone. But a voice from inside Harry couldn't understand it and was complaining. Harry told that voice to shut up and enjoy the peace.

Forcefully forgetting about it, Harry went to talk to Winnie who was still chatting with her yearmates. "Winnie, you left the start of your essay in the library the other day."

"Oh, thanks, Harry."

"Also, hey, can we talk soon about the-"

"Come on, Winnie! Brutus and Katyah are about to start their chess match!"

"Sorry, Harry. We'll talk though. I promise!"

That left Harry the last person to leave the classroom, and it made him very aware that he was a stranger in this time. He felt a bit homesick again and wished more than ever that he could just go home instead of stuck in this new adventure.

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As reluctant as he was at first, Battle Club was getting his energy pumped up, even though he didn't know the first thing about it. He was looking to relieve some tension after the first few days of nerves. When he arrived, he saw that the Great Hall had been a bit transformed. The dining tables were no longer around, but instead benches, separated by House, were set up along the sides of the walls as if this were a Quidditch match. There was a large raised platform in the middle of the room. As part of Pippa's crew, he got to sit in the front row of the Gryffindor area, which was by far the largest representation of Houses in Battle Club.

Across the room was Tom Riddle, who was talking quietly to his Slytherin companions. Riddle didn't look up at Harry at all.

After a few minutes of chatting with his friends, Harry and the rest of the audience grew quiet as Merrythought walked in. As this was also the first day of Battle Club for the school year, logistics were given out first.

Since first years were new, Professor Merrythought gave a well rehearsed lecture on how this wasn't called a Dueling Club for a reason. A Duel implied a formal set of rules played by sheltered gentlefolk. In a battle, there were no rules. The second you turned your back you could be killed. This scared the first years who were clearly dragged out by their Gryffindor friends. Still, Merrythought hadn't explained the rules.

Looking around, Merrythought plucked some students from the crowd, seeming to want to demonstrate first. She chose Walburga Black from the Slytherin section, Sirius's awful mother. She had long black hair, thin eyebrows, and just the most awful looking facial expression. Pippa was picked out from the Gryffindor section. As Poppy walked up, Mervin cheered and Michael whooped.

"That eighth year has nothing on you!" Mervin shouted.

"Eighth year?" Harry asked.

"Oh yeah, so Walburga Black made a royal mistake a while back and was forced to retake a year. It's hilarious. We'll tell you about it another time."

The moment Poppy stepped onto the platform, Black started shooting spells at Poppy. Poppy dodged the first spell and whipped up a Protego. She sent a fairy bell charm at Black who was so busy covering her ears that Poppy had a chance to regain some composure and shoot other spells back. Suddenly a Ravenclaw boy stepped onto the platform and cast a hex at Poppy.

"WHAT?" Harry shouted in distress.

"Calm down," Crouch said.

"It's part of battle procedure. Merrythought starts tapping people to enter the Battlefield," Michael explained.

"But what's the purpose? Is there a goal?" Harry said. "Last wizard standing?"

"Oh no, not that barbaric. Merrythought will explain in more detail after this initial fight but basically the room is divided at random before the club starts. Today it's Slytherins and Ravenclaws on one side and us and 'Puffs on the other. The goal is to be the side that eliminates all of the other. If Poppy managed to take down Black before Jordan entered the field then we win automatically."

A female Hufflepuff, clearly a bit younger than the others entered the fight. It looked like even though she wasn't particularly gifted with a spell knowledge, she was very fast moving. Very quickly though, Poppy was knocked off the platform by the Ravenclaw – Jordan's – tickling charm. Moments later, she got up, but just stood next to the platform waiting for the battle to end.

Harry thought he could overpower and crush them all, and the Gryffindor in him frantically put a lid on that strange part of Harry's personality.

"Is there a reward?" Harry asked. He was surprised no one tried to bring this back when they were in school but he supposed that not only was there that curse on the Defense position, but for a long time, everyone was in denial about Voldemort's return. No one was in denial about the Grindelwald War here, so this club was both practical and fun. Harry was actually getting excited about this club. Finally, something to look forward to in this nightmare of an experience.

While the students on the platform weren't bad – they were certainly better than the members of Dumbledore's Army when they started – they went about this the way any group of teenagers who would feel untouched by the war would feel – like they were simply playing a game. None of these students ever had to fight for their lives, he supposed. In this era, the battles actually stayed amongst the adults and no children was expected to do battle. No one in wizarding society in this time had a Boy-Who-Lived or Chosen One to put pressure on.

No, this was just Merrythought's way of recruiting for the DMLE.

It occurred to Harry that while there was rivalry and perhaps a general dislike of Slytherins for their cunning, the division between Houses didn't become legend until Voldemort started recruiting almost exclusively from Slytherin House, and that was when they earned their name as a house full of Dark Wizards. And the influence of Dumbledore's general distrust towards anyone Slytherin after Tom Riddle made his way to the top of the food chain only added to it.

So while Harry's spellwork wasn't particularly advanced in the heat of battle, his quick instincts and desperation to survive was what had impressed his Defense class on the first day. Because that was what a good little soldier/Auror needed.

"The winning side gets about 10 points to each House. Merrythought usually goes back and watches for individual performances. Once she's done, there will be a very embarrassingly public ranking. At the end of the year, the best student in year gets an automatic 'O,' and tons of points for their house. And the top students of seventh year get strong recommendations for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Barty's been drooling for top spot every year since first year."

"Poppy hates this," Mervin said sadly. "This is like torture for her. She hates hurting people even though they'll be fine after a good renervate or a short trip to the Hospital Wing." Harry had a very good explanation for that, he wished he could say something to free Poppy of this duty.

After Gryffindor got tapped again, and then Slytherin after that, the Slytherin-Ravenclaw side won this round. When Harry looked to their side, he saw the Slytherin and Walburga coming back and talking to Riddle, almost as if they were debriefing.

As the others indicated, Merrythought explained the rest of the rules for the club, that she would try to do 1 or 2 rounds depending on how short or long the first one was, and dismissed everyone. Thus, came the weekend.

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It looked like the fun never ended. Harry was exhausted when Saturday morning, Michael dragged him up from bed in order to take him to Quidditch tryouts.

"Um, Michael, I never agreed -"

"Hush up and just come with."

So, Harry, who still really needed more clothes than his one Hogwarts uniform, borrowed a flying robe from Michael. Harry held up the lightweight short robe with disdain. "Michael, are you sure..." Harry gestured to the clear height and with difference between the tall, strong, muscular Beater and the thin silhouette of Harry's seeker build.

"Don't worry about it – I think this is from my skinny days of 2nd year."

Harry snorted, but, to his absolute misery, they fit fine. "If you make the team, you can keep that," Michael said, rubbing his chin when Harry walked out to show it off.

"We're heading out to the grounds a bit early so I don't have to deal with the sycophants later. There's a few current players that should be getting their spots back, but who knows what the new people trying out will bring." Mervin tagged along, one of the Chasers from last year.

About half an hour later, once the Quidditch Pitch was set, all of the candidates were assembled on the grass. Harry decided that since he wasn't already associated with the seeker spot, he'd try out for all the roles just for fun. He grabbed a Comet. He cringed at how slow it would be compared to both his Nimbus and his Firebolt.

After about an hour, the Beater and Chaser trials were done. Chaser was a bad choice for him. Perhaps it was all this time being more of a lonely player than a team player, coordinating with the other Chasers was a bit of a disaster. And hitting a bat as a Beater was the easy part. It was trying to push back against his instinct to avoid bludgers and use them as tools instead that was the difficult part.

And his broom! It was the worst, playing on not just a school broom, but a broom fifty years older than the models he was used to.

The good part of this long morning was that at this point he met a lot of really nice and funny people. It was so different from his time at Hogwarts, but it made sense, Harry supposed. In his time, he was either the next dark lord or the golden savior. No one was able to act normal around him. But with them thinking he was a decently normal student, everyone was more willing to open up to him. No one judged him or put an undeserved large amount of responsibilities on him. Here, he was just a talented bloke.

Keeper trials were slow-going. Since only one person could try out at a time, there was time for mingling. There were a few people who had wanted to talk to him. Just Harry's luck, not all of the people he met that day were that nice.

An Asian girl with chin-length, feathery-textured dark brown hair introduced herself as "Quinsley Tsang."

"You look like you have Seeker's build," she said, looking him over, scrutinizing him.

"It's been said, " Harry responded unsure of how to interact with her. She was very direct. The last Asian Quidditch player he knew was Cho Chang and Cho was by far much more giggly. Quinsley didn't look to be the giggling type.

She put a hand on her hip and tossed a straight lock of hair off her face. "Look, I don't know where you dropped out of the sky from, but I've been waiting three years for the last Seeker to graduate, and I'm not going to deal with waiting for you to graduate in order to get the Seeker's spot -"

Harry waved his hands trying to calm her down. "Whoa, whoa. Hey, I'm just trying out for fun, as a favor for Michael. I don't really care about being Seeker in particular."

She still looked stubborn.

Harry kept going. "Why do you care so much about being a Seeker? You did well in the Chaser trial."

She shrugged, and the broom - a really good Comet too - switched hands. "Seekers get the glory. There's no glory in coordinating with other Chasers."

Harry frowned. "Don't Chasers measure the number of scores they make?"

Tsang shrugged again. Harry wasn't planning on playing seriously, but he decided that if this Quinsley girl was going to be irritating, then Harry would at least put some energy in, to make sure she was as good as she was implying.

Eventually, it was Harry's turn to play Keeper and defend the three goal posts. Harry thought he did pretty well. He managed to keep all but two Quaffles out, probably because of his experience with sudden turns of a snitch. He had terrible balance however.

Tsang also played the Keeper position and did spectacularly well. She almost got all but one; the last Quaffle had slipped out of her fingers so she was tied with Harry. He wondered if she let it go on purpose. In spite of that, it was clear she was a good Keeper. Unlike Harry she didn't look like she was going to fall off her broom.

"Isn't she so good?" one of the other younger male students said. "It's a shame she's been trying to go after the Seeker position because she's been a great Keeper so far."

Harry had a tough time processing what the last statement meant. "Are you... are you telling me she was the Keeper last year?"

"Yup. No offense, but she's a better Keeper than you."

Harry laughed and shrugged. "None taken."

So she was already on the Quidditch team from last year? Oh yes. This would be fun.

Michael gathered all the Seeker hopefuls. "I let out a fair amount of snitches in the pitch. I'm not going to tell you how many because I want to see the best you have for me. The trial ends when it looks like you've got them all or if it goes on for too long. Pocket them in these pouches..." After everyone got a bag, he blew the whistle and they were off.

There were enough snitches that the first few were easy. At least one or two were close calls and had been closer the other candidates. From the corner of his eye he saw how fast Tsang was moving on her high-end (relatively for her time) broom. After about forty minutes it was starting to look like they had them all. Harry looked down to search the grass and lo and behold, it seemed one final snitch was hovering inches from the ground. But instead of going straight for the snitch he had to check on everyone else's position. Tsang was doing great the opposite and checking the skies. So Harry then started sinking to the grass. She had noticed it, however, and shot her broom downward. With no other choice, Harry just went straight for the snitch. It was clear she was much faster however and seemed to be nearly caught up in spite of being several meters higher than Harry had been.

Wanting to see how gutsy she would be, he pressed forward. Slower than what Harry was used to, but fast enough that a crash would do major damage, still. He noticed Tsang kept looking at him, trying to see if Harry would slow down. But Harry was good at this. This, at this speed especially, was nothing. When they got a few yards from the ground, Tsang decided she had enough, and she pulled up to avoid a crash course.

But Harry, in a shout out to Angelina Johnson who taught him the move back in fifth year, both managed to pull up the broom and turn himself upside down. Holding tightly onto the broom for dear life, he reached out and snagged the snitch, fingers just grazing the grass. After righting himself and stuffing it in his pouch, Michael blew his whistle. Quasi-gracefully, Harry dropped to the ground.

He thought absentmindedly, though admittedly mean, that this meant Tsang was in Gryffindor not for her courage but for her desire for glory.

He heard people clapping after they got to him. That was the first applause since Harry arrived in 1943, he felt he actually deserved. "That was amazing, Harry!" Michael said. "You must teach us that move some time! I've never seen it before."

Oh bollocks , did he just invent the Sloth Grip Roll?

The other candidates touched down, some patting his back for a job well done.

At the assemble, Michael revealed that only 24 golden snitches were released. Among the nine Seeker hopefuls, Tsang had seven and Harry had eleven, in spite of his slower broom. She gave him a stiff and bitter, "Good show."

Michael blew his whistle again to get everyone's attention. "So this concludes our Quidditch tryouts. Thank you all for coming in today, you've all given me a lot to think about. Now go on – I want you to enjoy your weekends! Notice will be put out some time Sunday. No matter what, know this. With the amount of talent you all displayed, Gryffindor is definitely winning the Quidditch Cup this year." People cheered.

Apparently his year mates had been in the stands too. "That was wicked!" Ben exclaimed.

Poppy was checking him over for bruises, pulling up his sleeves, and feeling his bones for any breakages. "I can't believe you, Harry! I nearly had a heart attack when I saw you take that dive!"

"What about me?" whined Mervin. "Aren't you going to check me over?"

Poppy looked like she would smack him but thought better of it. "Wait your turn," she said gently instead.

A bit away, Harry saw Michael talking to Tsang; curiosity took over, and he decided to approach carefully.

".. Look, Quinsley, I know your heart was set on Seeker but Harry beat you fairly."

"But if I could just start playing and practicing now I could be even better than Harry when I become a seventh year. You know it's my dream to go pro-Quidditch as a Seeker!"

Michael crossed his arms, clearly losing his patience. Harry would be pretty irritated too, except that Tsang genuinely looked like she would start crying any moment. She did a good job of bottling it up to look tough though. "Quit it, Quinsley. I need you to snap out of this all-about-me attitude you have right now. You're better than this. Be a team player... Here's the tough truth. Recruiters won't be looking at fourth years at the moment. But even if they did you won't be good enough by the start of recruiting season to get their attention. Harry, on the other hand, will. And you don't even know if he wanted to go professional, either."

Honestly, Harry never considered it seriously what with dark wizards breathing down his neck. But he filed it mentally under a list of options he could pursue after graduation.

After Quinsley marched away, hiding her face from everyone, Michael joined them and they headed to lunch. Knowing to a fair degree of certainty that he would probably be joining the Quidditch team, he asked Michael what the schedules would be like. Harry looked at his time table, and made the appropriate notes. When lunch was coming to an end, Harry excused himself for a moment to head to the Slytherin table. The conversations stopped when he approached, the snakes sensing an intruder.

"Riddle, I have availability on Monday and Wednesday evenings as well as most of Sunday."

Riddle looked up dispassionately. "Noted," and went back to what apparently was the previous conversation at the table. Chatter returned, as everyone took Riddle's cue.

Harry was thrown for a loop. He walked away a bit shell shocked at the dismissal, trying not to think about why he cared so much.

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Eventually things fell into a routine. Harry would go to class, go to Quidditch practice, go to the library. He didn't have any school books so he was forced to do his homework and studying there. It was starting to make him look like a Ravenclaw or Hermione. The school librarian didn't really have anything for him either, the book hadn't shown up. There was still some time, but it was worrying him. He didn't want to go to Dumbledore, and confess he couldn't find the book. Without the book, the Old Trio couldn't even begin to help him. Clearly someone somewhere had knowledge of the ritual though – Dumbledore did mention he'd heard of it, so there might be a back up plan there. For now, he tried to shut it out of his mind.

In the Winnie department, after several days, it became clear that all of these excuses to not talk was not mere coincidences; it seemed Winnie was avoiding him.

And Riddle. Riddle would still show up at the library, but he wouldn't look up when Harry was around.

Occasionally they spoke, but only out of necessity. Riddle would send a note by first year or owl that referred to a time and day when they would meet up at the ground keeper's hut to work on the project. At the forest, Tom would say almost nothing except what was relevant to the homework. The project hadn't gotten anywhere yet, but Tom said he didn't know of anyone who successfully found the alchemy materials yet either. At their next alchemy class, Riddle sat with his fellow Slytherins, continuing, it seemed, to take the hint that Harry didn't want him around. It was almost as if Riddle was a completely normal acquaintance and fellow student, and not a budding Dark Lord.

Altogether, this meant Harry's life had come to a complete standstill over the course of a week.

Today, Harry was idly sitting in front of his Transfiguration text, working on a paper for Dumbledore, when he had a sudden urge to know what Riddle was doing. Silently casting one of the spying spells he was taught during the war, Harry closed his eyes, being able to see around him and push his vision away as if his eyes could separate from his body. He pushed to the direction of Riddle, intent on knowing what Voldemort was doing at the moment.

Harry had learned over the last few days that Tom could be incredibly boring. He would read usually non-course relevant material, or he would help younger students who came up to him with questions on homework. Ironically, these younger students were never from his own house. It seemed most Slytherins steered clear of Riddle if they had the choice.

As Harry watched Riddle flipping through a book on Architectural spells, he realized that Riddle wasn't actually reading the book in any conventional sense of the word. Riddle would pause at all the pages, and by the time a normal person would get to the third sentence, Riddle would turn the page. At first Harry thought Riddle was only pretending to read and thinking about something else, but he noticed Riddle's eyes jumping around as he looked at the pages, and not glossed over.

Bloody hell, Riddle had an eidetic memory. Apparently nothing Riddle did fell short of the categorization of Genius.

But it was as Harry watched this scene that his mind tickled, trying to tell him something.

And it was that Harry had gone from full blown animosity to near obsession with what Riddle was doing at every moment. Meaning Riddle's dismissal of Harry had somehow led to Harry seeking Riddle out instead of the other way around. He wouldn't put it past Riddle for this being some long form manipulation. Was this how he got his followers? Made every person feel special before taking back his addictive magic? So everyone would yearn to become close to him in order to get a taste of what they once had?

Harry almost fell for it too. He had been so used to seeing Riddle as Voldemort that he didn't notice it. Whereas Voldemort was direct and prone to anger, Riddle was sly and cunning. But before Voldemort had lost himself to Dark Magic and become a crazed psychopath, he was a highly intelligent, highly functional psychopath.

Harry was mad, though more at himself for not being careful. He couldn't exactly be mad at Riddle for simply being a dark lord-in-training. Two could play at that game. Putting the Transfiguration book away, he made a big decision. Instead of going to the Gryffindor Tower he headed to where he remembered the Ravenclaw entrance would be. He found the bronze Eagle knocker.

The Eagle started to speak, "What is both -"

"I don't need to be granted entry. Could you ask for Winfred Vance for me?"

He wasn't sure if the Eagle understood – it simply stopped moving. But moments later, Winnie poked her head out. "Harry? How did you know where the Ravenclaw dorms - - "

"Can we talk?"

Biting her lip, she looked behind her as if looking for another excuse. But she sighed, agreed, and stepped out. They walked quietly to a nearby classroom. She leaned on a desk and looked away from him. The nearby window cast a light on her brown hair. Gods, he thought she was pretty.

"Winnie, I just.. I just wanted to say sorry. Maybe I should have gotten to know you more and respected what you said about not liking blokes. I think you're awfully pretty, and if you want me to stop making your uncomfortable about your sexual orientation, I will."

"It's not that," she put her palm to her forehead and sighed. "It's completely my fault. As you've probably noticed, I've definitely been avoiding you, which was a stupid solution. I should have known from your face that you were the marrying type... I was just flirting to mess around, it's what I do. When I came onto you that first night I was expecting to just have a little fun, you know? Nothing serious."

"It's fine," Harry said, stepping closer. Did he really mean that? Wasn't he here to find his true love? Okay, so part of Harry thought that maybe Winnie would eventually reconsider and turn out to be his true partner. But even if she didn't, he felt like he really needed this. He needed something physical. If his true partner was someone else in this school, it could wait until after he got Winnie out of his head. "If you don't want us dating, we don't have to be."

"Are you sure? I'm not good at monogamy. I'll probably even kiss girls while we're dating, or whatever this is. You won't be able to change my mind about what people I like." She had a severely serious expression on her face. "So if we start this and you try to convince me that I shouldn't be with girls, it ends."

Harry got up so close to Winnie's face that he thought he could feel his breath bouncing back. She stared right back into his eyes before hers fluttered shut.

"That's perfectly fine," he asserted again. He wrapped his arms around her waist, and they stood like that for a few seconds. Then he dipped his head, and they kissed.

It felt like everything he needed at that moment, and yet it wasn't right.

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Just when Tom/Harry goes a few steps forward, it also takes a few steps back. In the next chapter, Riddle will find out about the two. Please let me know what you think! I had a ton of fun with the name of this chapter. :)


	4. All Around Him Are Familiar Faces

**WARNING:** In this chapter, the story finally earns its rating for relatively mild sexual content. It fades-to-black since I'm trying to comply by the rules of FFNet, but I think I might post a more explicit version somewhere else depending on demand.

 **CHAPTER FOUR. ALL AROUND HIM ARE FAMILIAR FACES.**

So far, Harry had been doing a great job pretending Riddle didn't exist again. He didn't look at the Slytherin table during meals, didn't glance when they occasionally passed each other in halls, didn't spy on him when they were in the library, and didn't even try to think about Tom Riddle at all. It was surprisingly difficult, but his irritation at being manipulated fueled him.

Well, that was until Care of Magical Creatures, when Kettleburn, the batshit crazy Creatures professor , led them out where they just stood near the Forest. They were on a dry, sandy part of land. At least one student looked regretful that they were still taking this course at NEWT-level. Harry was standing off to the side, closer to the Forest than the Castle. Kettleburn still hadn't said a thing. Just stood there, with his missing arm.

That was when Harry saw Them coming, at first just looking like shadows in the distance. The Thestrals were coming!

"Oh, I see Mr. Key here can see them. Yes, yes, that makes sense... you were very close to the war, weren't you?"

One of the Thestrals leaped ahead and approached Harry and nuzzled him. Harry nearly fell over, so surprised by the approach.

The others followed suit, almost swarming him, and they even accidentally pushed a couple students standing next to Harry. Harry started laughing as their nipping and licking started tickling him.

The other students who were blind to it all were just confused at Harry's behavior, some disoriented because they'd been pushed. Harry wasn't sure what was happening, but he was enjoying it.

"This is amazing," Kettleburn said. "They've taken to you like moths to a light. I can't imagine why, but this must be documented. I've never seen such domesticated behavior! Class, what you are witness- oh. Well, what you are partially witnessing are Thestrals. If you turn to the 66th page of your texts, you'll see an artist's rendition of them. For most of you, you'll never see a Thestral in person," and with a very serious pause: "Count yourselves amongst the lucky." A few students looked to each other, worried to the meaning. Some started reading the Thestrals passages of their text.

The Thestrals hadn't been so drawn to him before. Harry theorized it was possibly related to Harry being connected to the Elder Wand, which had a Thestral Hair core. Or maybe it was related him being Master of Death. It was a title Harry didn't quite know what to do with or understood the meaning of. But Hermione informed him he'd probably been the first to ever unite all the Hallows.

One Thestral clearly wanted Harry to climb on top, but he held off on it momentarily as he saw an old man and a very, very large boy approaching them, groundskeeper and assistant, who must have accompanied the Thestrals. The half-giant was staring in awe at Harry and what he perceived to be the relationship between Harry and the Thestrals.

The students nearby who saw Hagrid walking towards them immediately backed away. Harry grew furious but Kettleburn beat him to it. "CALM YOURSELVES," came the booming voice of the Professor. "You call yourselves NEWT Care of Magical Creature students...? Anyone with half a mind knows Acromantulas can't petrify or have killed Miss Warren that way. Mr. Hagrid here is a good lad with a love for all creatures."

Hagrid had just been recently expelled and everyone thought him to be a monster. But Hagrid would have just been a fourth year if he were still a student. If Harry didn't know that he'd be destroying Voldemort fifty years from now, he might have done something regrettable at that moment. Like a bad habit, everything Riddle started entering his thoughts again, and he started wondering what sort of plans Riddle was plotting next.

But then as Harry thought about it, he wasn't sure if he'd have stopped Hagrid from being expelled. Maybe being expelled and then hired to keep the grounds wasn't such a bad thing. Hagrid eventually got hired as a professor, he got to work with all sorts of beasts in the Forest, he met Olympe Maxime, and because he was close to Dumbledore, Hagrid got to meet his half brother. Hagrid was also an orphan since his father had died in his second year, but working at Hogwarts allowed him to be safe from the Grindelwald War and create a new family here. Harry wasn't sure Hagrid would have gotten to do all these things if Hagrid got a normal education and went out to get a Mastery in Care of Magical Creatures. He had a lot of mixed feelings.

Kettleburn continued lecturing, unaware of Harry's inner turmoil. "Now as you can see, Harry here is completely safe. But due to Ministry classification, I couldn't expose Thestrals to you until now. Which is absolutely crap. Rest assured I will get that changed." At this moment, Harry decided to do a bit of showing off for the dubious seventh years around him. Caressing the Thestral that wanted him to mount it, the Thestral leaned down and allowed Harry to climb on top.

He received numerous gasps. A lot of them probably saw just a flying Harry. "Bravo, my boy. Bravo!"

Kettleburn continued lecturing, and Harry stopped paying attention, waving over Hagrid instead. Hagrid, who at this point was probably used to being a pariah, only pointed at himself and mouthed a 'Who? Me?' Harry waved him over again.

"Hey, how are you," Harry asked. "I'm Harry, by the way."

"I'm Rubeus. Rubeus Hagrid. I'm assistant to the Keeper of the Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts," said the boy with a deep, yet shy voice. He was holding his hands in front of himself.

Harry wasn't too sure what to say next, but he knew what would get Hagrid to open up: "Want to tell me about your favorite creatures in the Forest?" Hagrid's eyes lit up.

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A couple days before the Alchemy project was due, Riddle and Harry were still looking around the Forbidden Forest. They had agreed via communication by first year that this was to be the last time they would try to search in the Forest before just writing the damn paper. It was after dinner, the sun was low in the sky but not near setting. There was a light breeze out, and out in the distance there were some students sitting outside as well as the Slytherin team practicing Quidditch. But for the most part, they were the only ones around for a large distance.

It had also now been a few days of Harry refusing to even look at Riddle. They had wandered around the edge of the forest in complete silence for a full hour, made only more obvious by the lack of nearby sound, just walking and kicking up anything that looked interesting, before Riddle lost his patience. "You're different, Key. What are you up to?" That was blunt. And also telling. He had realized since the other week that there was no way Riddle wouldn't have noticed someone spying on him. He couldn't have imagined Riddle going very far in his Dark Lord career if Dumbledore had easily gotten evidence of Riddle's wrongdoing early on just by using a spying spell. Riddle had been manipulating him.

"Nothing. Just looking at ingredients to combine," Harry said innocently.

If Riddle was the type to roll his eyes, Harry would have imagined that to be a good moment to do it. "Clearly that's not it."

"Really then? Why, what have you noticed?" Harry inquired. When Riddle didn't say anything, Harry gave himself a point.

Riddle spoke again, "There is a rumor going around that you can fly without a broom. Another rumor says you single-handedly tamed Class XXXX beasts."

Harry slapped his face, exasperated. "Literally neither is true." And Riddle chuckled softly.

Eventually Harry spoke up again, but in relation to their project, "Did your followers tell you if they found anything out here?"

Riddle quirked his eyebrow at the 'followers' comment. Harry shrugged. Force of habit. "They haven't. They're planning to just write the paper but I don't trust their findings."

Harry frowned. "It's very possible that Slughorn wanted us to not find something."

"Yes... that does sound like a lesson he would have wanted to impart... It just seems unlikely. If there are materials to combine as common as pumpkin juice or eggs or gold, I can't imagine there couldn't be something here...," Riddle said, overturning some leaves with his foot. As autumn had just begun, the leaves had yet to develop their crunch.

And then it occurred to Harry: "Wait, that must be it!"

Riddle looked at Harry, frowning, probably about to ask before realization dawned. "Yes... The key is in the lack of magic in the materials," he said, echoing Harry's thoughts.

"That makes sense. Slughorn did mention some time during lecture that aether was stagnant in the muggle world. The catalyst moves the aether and allows objects to bind and change properties. It doesn't work for items that already have flowing aether due to Magic. It also explains why they asked us not to search in the forest in the dark because of the potency of moonlight."

Riddle posited that, "No, it probably is actually a safety issue. They don't want to risk students accidentally going deeper into the forest at night. But the rest I can agree with."

Harry paused, remembering something. "How weren't you able to figure this out before? I thought you'd have read all the alchemy books in school already."

"Oh, and why do you think that?" Harry thought Riddle's voice sounded just a little teasing. Probably because Harry couldn't answer that question without admitting he had been spying on Riddle. The little counter in his head, evened the score from earlier. Harry: 1, Riddle: 1.

"You just don't seem the type to walk into a class without knowing everything already," Harry answered lamely.

Riddle sighed. "The few Alchemy books there are don't cover the basics and fundamentals and sit in the Restricted Section. Wizarding society as a whole seems to frown upon learning alchemy without a master to guide you. Alchemy, and Rituals as well, are among the few magics that can't be undone very easily unlike most charms or spells. It's why it's dangerous for people to learn on their own. And since there are laws against putting those topics in text accessible to children, it's why you see many rituals coming from tradition or outside the country." That was actually very informative. And also the most amount of words Harry had heard Riddle saying all at once since he arrived in 1943.

"So does that mean this is it? There's probably nothing that hasn't been touched by either the forest or the school's ambient magic." Harry asked, "Do we go back and write about our findings?"

"No..." Riddle held a finger to his bottom lip. "... I'm trying to think of a way we can find objects that haven't been magically enhanced from years, centuries, of being near Hogwarts."

Harry picked up a stone and inspected it. "The stones. The stones are stagnant. It's why some runic rituals require keystone. They're an anchor that magic can bind to, but not permeate, like magic would with a blade of grass. They're probably also the only material in this forest that has stagnated aether. I'm not so sure this theory is right, though. Isn't our food touched by house elves? So wouldn't eggs... and drinks like pumpkin juice be magically enhanced? How could he have made the demonstration work? I can't imagine wizards having the patience of growing pumpkin patches the muggle way."

Riddle tilted his head. "Maybe, maybe not. For all we know this was the lesson we were supposed to learn, and Slughorn actually took pumpkins and eggs from the muggle world." He looked up in the trees, where a few little birds were playing with each other. "Do you think those visiting sparrows have touched enough magic to be influenced?"

Harry balked. "We're not killing birds!"

Riddle raised an eyebrow at Harry's reaction. "I was only planning to catch one and pluck a feather... You were the one who jumped to death."

Embarrassed, Harry acquiesced it was a bad assumption to make. But Riddle appeared to have moved past the comment and went back to staring at the twittering birds before saying, "But how are we to catch it without summoning it?"

Harry stared at the leaves on the ground and remembered that Slughorn said putting an easily corruptible object like the zircon rod in a transfigured satchel wouldn't have been a problem. He didn't really understand free vs used magic and why the castle several yards away was more corrupting than a transfigured net, but magical theory was a bit beyond him. Taking his wand, he decided to try his hand at free transfiguration. The standard schedule put free transfiguration, as opposed to normal easier ones that required an incantation, later in the schedule NEWT lesson plan, but since Harry had enough transfiguration experience to last until Christmas where he left off, it was no issue. He transfigured the leaves into a wide net. Harry flung it up at the birds immediately... But it failed. The sparrows only hopped to the nearby tree. Their chirping was like laughter as the net fell limply toward the ground. He glared at the birds who didn't fly away yet, probably interested in what Harry was doing, while Riddle chuckled. A warm, smooth chuckle. No, Harry mentally shook his head. A dark lord evil cackle, Harry corrected.

Riddle took hold of the end of the net and bound them with some other rocks near by to add some weight. Harry tried again and one sparrow managed to be caught off guard. The sparrow chirped, panicked, but Harry shushed it, gentling taking it from under the net. "Don't worry," Harry said softly.

"It's just a bird," Riddle said, annoyed that Harry wasn't moving on.

"It's still a life," Harry said, and it reminded him that Riddle of course wouldn't understand. "Do you know how to cast a pain relief or numbing spell..." it came out before he could stop himself.

Surprisingly, Riddle did. Probably came with the territory of being a brilliant encyclopedia-like student. The idea of Riddle relieving pain was a bit peculiar. "After, though," Riddle had said. That seemed cruel. "Don't want to corrupt the bird. Do we even know if it's from the non-magical world?"

Harry lifted the bird to eye-level, as if to better see if there were traces of magic that the bird carried. "Yes. As magic-less as Muggle."

If Riddle was surprised or impressed, he didn't show it. Harry carefully plucked three feathers from different locations and the bird started chirping in discomfort. Riddle immediately cast a pain relief charm, and once the bird calmed, Harry let it go chase it's brethren. But not before concluding that he should keep the memory of Riddle casting a pain relief charm safe in case he ever felt like creating a Museum of Voldemort. Harry put two feathers in a glass collecting jar he brought along and put the third in the cauldron. Harry grabbed a stone, checked it as well for magical traces and then put it in the glass cauldron. Then taking the zircon rod, he stirred the feather and the stone. They peered in.

Nothing happened.

"I look like an idiot, don't I?" Harry said mostly to himself.

"Give yourself a little more credit than that," Riddle said, deadpanned. Harry actually wasn't sure if that was meant to be a reassurance or an insult. Sighing, Riddle started looking around again. They'd done so many times before, but this time it was with renewed eyes.

Harry sat onto the ground and lifted some soil from the ground to examine magical contents. While it would have been awfully convenient for him to just look in the forest and extend his sensitivity, it was hard when the Forest and even the air permeated magic. It was easier when there was direct contact. Plants were an absolute no-go, as they do nothing but absorb. Most living matter carried magic on their surface when exposed to something so potent as the forest and the school.

In the distance, the sun was starting to set. Neither made a move or a suggestion to leave. Harry had remained sitting on the forest grass. Legs bent in front of him. Riddle, who had his eyes closed while standing and leaning against a tree seemed to come up with something. He walked over to a fallen branch, carefully lifted it with two long, nimble fingers, and cast, "Incendio." As it burned, he let it drop to the ground. When it finished burning amongst the stones, he picked up some of the charcoal and ash, pulled out the feather that was in the cauldron, and dumped the charcoal and ash onto the stone. Kneeling down so he was beside Harry, he took his own zircon rod and stirred contents of the cauldron. Riddle pulled out the rod when it looked like something was happening. The stone that was sitting in the cauldron glowed red before spontaneously melting into a hot black and red sludge in the glass cauldron. It was brilliant. The high heat easily warmed the dark haired boys that bent over it but apparently didn't melt the glass.

"Harry," Riddle said, his eyes glittering with scholarly enthusiasm, "I do believe we just discovered lava."

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Needless to say, Slughorn was more than impressed after he had skimmed everyone's handed in papers at the start of class. "I have never, never in my life heard of this. Most students are expected to discover that they can't discover anything. Only the teams of Mr. Riddle and Mr. Key, and Miss Holmstead and Mr. Wilson, were able to correctly deduce that non-magical items are the base materials that alchemists use to transmutate. But no one probably since the days of the founders have been able to still find a way to transmutate items from a magically dense forest. Lava. Mr. Riddle and Mr. Key, you make a marvelous team." Harry was both proud and disturbed at the compliment.

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Winifred didn't want to shag him. He couldn't say he was completely surprised, but he did like her a lot so he didn't mind too much. But the problem was Harry's sexual drive had only grown increasingly while he was here, and there was only so much that wanking could do. Maybe it was the thought of being with Winnie and knowing she had been with girls in the past that turned him on, he wasn't sure. He certainly never had a problem when he was with Ginny. He had liked Ginny enough and she was a bit frisky but he didn't think about sex as often with her as he was currently.

Speaking of Ginny, over the past week of being with Winifred, he realized he stopped thinking about Ginny as often. Actually, instead, he started wondering why he was so interested in Ginny to begin with. He certainly cared about her, and he remembered a strong attraction to her when they first started dating, but he definitely felt like he wasn't sure what about Ginny he liked other than being cute in a best friend's little sister sort of way. He supposed he was right when he told Hermione that separation with Ginny would only make things bad for their relationship.

If he was sent back to 1998, he wasn't sure if he would want to be back with Ginny. He probably would end up with her out of convenience, but would he want to?

That made him feel like a bad guy though, and it made him wonder if he was only just saying that because he had a pretty brunette on his arm now, and Ginny was only interesting while she was one of the more attractive girls in his life.

He would re-evaluate later; the relationship with Winnie was still too new for him to properly assess things. So she didn't call it a relationship, but he was getting mixed signals, frankly. Every so often they'd sneak into empty rooms and snog, and she'd let him touch her under her robes. First, it was just her breasts.

But just earlier, today – Friday, after he had Battle Club – they were in a dark broom closet. Winnie was more willing to go further with him when it was dark, and he tried not to think about the implications.

Winnie's robes were wide open, and her bra was off, and he was lightly brushing his thumb over her breasts. Then she had grabbed his wrist while they were snogging and brought his hand down to where her knickers were covering her womanhood. Catching her meaning, he had started rubbing her, when she bucked at the touch. He kissed her a bit more before moving her knickers to the side...

Needless to say, that was why he was here, lying in bed in the early evening just having darkened the sky - the curtains having been closed shut, and thinking of shagging.

After he had apparently managed to satisfy her manually, she seemed to get bored very quickly. She hadn't wanted to touch him intimately (yet, he hoped), and, for now, he was okay with it, because she wasn't ready. He wasn't some arsehole that was going to pressure her. He still had a very stiff problem that needed to be addressed, but even though she said it'd be more of an open relationship, he had a hard time with the thought of being in anything but a monogamous relationship. While he would have appreciated some finality to their encounter, he wasn't the type to just pull any girl away and have a meaningless shag just because Winnie said it was okay for him to do so.

He wondered offhandedly if she would be okay with bringing a girl in for a threesome. That was thinking with his other head, though, and he knew he would regret the thought the moment he finished wanking. But for now, he enjoyed then imagery. Or he would. Except as he tried to think of Winnie and a faceless girl together with him, all he got instead was the face of Tom Riddle who'd been constantly occupying his thoughts recently.

Since Riddle noticed that Harry caught onto the cold shoulder act, Riddle seemed to stop playing mind games, for now. And was halfway human to be around. He was sure Ron would have been pissed Harry hadn't done anything but it very literally wasn't the place nor the Time. And, Harry loathed to admit it, but Tom Riddle was very different from Voldemort. While he maybe deserved punishment for having gotten Myrtle killed or having killed his Muggle family, he wasn't the same person who started a genocide, and Harry was not big on revenge killings. Harry wouldn't have even destroyed Voldemort if his life and the survival of his friends hadn't hung on the balance.

Okay, so Ron would still say that Harry could have saved Sirius or Lupin or Fred. That really wasn't much of an excuse. So it seemed that Harry just really didn't want to kill Tom Riddle at the moment, for whatever reason.

Harry sighed. He just got on another Riddle tangent again, and tried to push those thoughts away so he could work on his little problem.

Suddenly the door opened, and he heard a, "Hey, Harry, I know it's late but Quinsley wants you to help her with... – OH. AHH." And the door slammed. Harry froze. It was Michael.

The curtains around his four-poster were closed to conceal him, but every boy knows that if you close the curtains, and it's not quite bed time, you're clearly working on things unrelated to sleep, in bed.

Deciding to just give up on wanking for the time being, he got up and made himself presentable to the public. He walked downstairs. "You called, Captain?" Harry said, trying not to show his deep embarrassment.

Clearly trying to stifle a laugh, Michael had his fist to his mouth while sitting at a table. Quinsley was sitting on a couch, broom in her lap, completely red-faced though still stubborn looking.

Calming down, Michael said, "Quinsley wants some extra practice, and wants you to throw some Quaffles at her. I'd do it normally, but I figured this was a good time as any to get you two to bond."

"And also you have an Arithmancy paper due on Monday."

"And that too… Poppy will tear my head off if I don't finish before I go to Hogsmeade... but mainly teamwork!" He slapped his fist into his palm for emphasis. "You guys haven't said a word to each other since we started practice on Sunday and I can't have that on my team."

All Harry could say was, "Um, okay."

When they got to the empty Quidditch pitch, Harry just started throwing the Quaffle at her in random intervals in different hoops. He tried to feint on occasion and fly up and down to throw at different angles. She would catch it and throw it back, or, less often, he'd have to summon it as it headed to the ground. Harry wasn't sure what this practice session was supposed to achieve. They still hadn't said a word the entire time as she was entirely focused on keeping Quaffles out of hoops.

"Is this helping you?" Harry shouted to her. It was cold, so Harry wasn't too pleased. He flew around a bit more to warm up.

He could see her shrug and toss her short dark hair out of her face. "I'm not getting them all, so yeah."

After about forty minutes of boredom, Harry decided to call it in for the night. Tsang followed and they flew to where the supply closets were and put the Quaffle and Harry's borrowed broom away before locking up with Michael's key.

"So are we... Okay?" Harry asked a little awkwardly when she locked up and turned to look up at him.

Blinking, she didn't seem to hear him because she changed the topic. "How do you do it? … Be a good Seeker?"

Harry sighed. Was she still on that? "I don't know... I guess... you can say that when I'm on a broom, I forget about everything. I feel... Invincible when I'm flying. So the lack of inhibitions helps."

"I feel the same way sometimes," she said. It was dark out, and he had a hard time making out her expression. So he made a move to walk back to the entrance. She followed, but kept talking, "It's like freedom... But then when I see something impossible like a far away Quaffle at the other hoop or when you took that dive during tryouts, I start thinking about the stats... that my broom can only decelerate so much or go zero to sixty in only so many seconds, and I sort of freeze."

Harry chuckled lightly. "Yeah I don't really think about those things. I sort of just of fly and let Magic handle it for me. Just... Forget. It's all I can recommend."

"Why'd you go into Quidditch anyway?" he asked later, trying to fill the silence.

Tsang shrugged. "My parents weren't okay with it at first but they eventually came around. They told me if I didn't honestly believe I could go pro-Quidditch, I should drop it by fifth or sixth year."

"And they forced you to be a seeker?" he asked.

"No that was all me. As a keeper, every missed Quaffle is something my parents could hold over my head. And they actually have... I could be a beater and they couldn't measure anything, but look at me!" She gestured at her petite figure. "I could be a chaser – all positive points because no one tracks your missed attempts – but I'm not good with cooperating with others."

Apparently she thought that explained it because she stopped talking. Harry didn't understand. "… but as a seeker you only get the snitch or you won't. Wouldn't failing then be worse? One missed Quaffle isn't much compared to missing a whole snitch."

She opened her mouth, probably going to say some sort of excuse, before shutting it again. They walked for a few seconds before she started laughing. And boy was it not a graceful laugh. She had to hold her stomach and gasp for air. Harry thought she was sort of okay like this. Charming, almost. "You know I never actually thought of that. I just assumed I'd always get the snitch!" She wiped a tear from her eye.

Harry was confused. "No one ever asked?"

The fourth year shook her head. "They sort of took the I-want-glory excuse at full value."

"What does this mean for you, then?"

"I'm not sure. I imagine now that I know there's not a lot of options that I can put a lot more energy into training."

"Wait, was that not your full potential? You'd be a great keeper then!"

She blushed. "Thanks."

Eventually they found their back to Gryffindor dorm; she had been sharing some crazy antics that members of the team used to do.

"... And Mervin was so awful at aiming Bludgers that he was banned from trying out for Beater for the rest of his Hogwarts career!" She giggled. They stopped in front of the portrait. Harry got the feeling he shouldn't say the password just yet. She looked up at him and said, "You know, you're alright Harry."

"... Thanks..."

"I mean it. When I saw you with your messed up hair I thought you'd be one of those stupid arrogant Quidditch jocks. But apparently that's just your hair, and you're actually really nice." She gave him a smile, and when she didn't look so stubborn or angry, Harry thought she was actually pretty cute.

"Good night, Quinsley."

"Good night, Harry."

When they went through the portrait, she seemed to bounce up the stairs and straight to bed. Meanwhile, Harry still felt awake since he wasn't the one who just flew around like a maniac for forty minutes. Harry saw Poppy and Ben working quietly in one of study tables in the common room.

"Hey all..."

"Hey, Harry- did you finish your Transfiguration paper?" Poppy asked.

"Yes, I did." Since he practically lived in the library these days, he got a lot of work done.

"Can I copy it?" Ben asked, exasperated, before Poppy threw one of her texts at him.

"Hey!"

Harry laughed and bent down to pick up the fairly light book on animating footwork. When he went to put it on their table, he saw Ben's pile of books on German history.

Glancing through it, he froze when he saw The Book. The red book with the brown typeface that Hermione had carried around with her while they had worked on the ritual. How did he not realize before that Ben could have checked it out? Harry grabbed it immediately, worried it would disappear. He memorized the title, worried it might vanish again if he weren't careful. _Deutsche Geschichte des 18. Jahrhunderts._ Quite a generic looking book, the author's name wasn't even written on the cover.

"Uhh, did you want to read that?" Ben asked, a little surprised at Harry's mystified reaction. "It's written in an old German dialect. Also, I have to return it to the library tomorrow."

"Can you... Can you translate it?"

"Err, not really? I mean, vaguely, but you'd do better finding someone else who actually can read it or find a less rudimentary translation spell. I only used it to look at the maps." How did Hermione do it? Crazy witch.

"How about I take this back to the library for you tomorrow?" Harry said.

"Oh. Oh yeah okay. Hey while you're at it, can you take... These three too?"

"Sure."

"I always wondered why we had to return these manually instead of the books being auto-summoned," Ben complained. "Instead of suffering the punishment of holding overdue books."

Poppy shrugged and said it was probably to collect late fees and allow students who needed them longer to hold onto them if they really needed it.

Harry put the books preciously in his bag. He'd return it after his Hogsmeade trip tomorrow.

000000000000000

Saturday morning. Hogsmeade weekend. Winnie, to his surprise, decided to go with him, even though they weren't seriously dating, and it just made Harry happy to think that she was changing her mind about dating a guy little by little. They had just gone and gotten Harry a couple of outfits that weren't just his one Hogwarts uniform or his flying robes. Harry was just going to buy one very inexpensive robe, but Winnie wouldn't have it, and helped cover a more extensive wardrobe.

"I can't let you buy this for me," Harry insisted, starting to understand why the Weasleys wouldn't take charity.

"Hey, I have to be the one standing next to you knowing you're wearing the same robe every day. Your cleaning charms are good, but they're breaking down the fabric much faster than normal. Besides, I know you're on a Ward's allowance-" Harry didn't correct her "- and I'm sure you'll pay me back eventually. Hey, I would have done this even if we weren't dating. And even if you didn't pay me back, my mum's a great corporate solicitor in the Muggle world." She shrugged.

Emerald eyes blinked behind frameless rectangular glasses. "She doesn't work in the Wizarding World?"

Winnie snorted. "Why would she? She makes more money in the Muggle world than she ever did in the Wizarding World and has Magic to help her with her cases."

"But what about the Statute of Secrecy?" Harry asked.

"That's only if Muggles discover what's she doing, and she's very discreet. The only danger comes if all Wizards decide to do the same thing and they won't because most pureblooded folk discriminate against dealing with Muggles."

Harry and Winnie walked over to Sandalwood's Every-Day Supplies. Here, Harry was supposed to pick out a new leather bag to replace the "robe" that Dumbledore let him borrow.

He was deciding between sticking with a cheaper bag or getting the one with security features embedded at a prettier penny. While staring at the price tags, he heard the door of the store opening with the light tingling of bells. A familiar magic entered the enclosed space, and Harry chose to ignore it.

"I could help you get the better one if you want," Winnie said, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Harry thought this was starting to sound like one of those sugar mummy set ups where an older woman pampers a younger boy with gifts in exchange for sexual favors. Winifred probably wouldn't get the reference, and she definitely wouldn't see why he thought Winnie was "old" considering she was in her perspective about a year younger – he had to wonder if Winifred was still alive in 1998. "Please don't," he opted to say instead, practically begging her not to buy it for him.

"Oh, all right," she said laughing. She gave him a small kiss, lingering for just a second on his lips.

Harry suddenly felt a brief wash of a familiar, deadly magic. A male voice from behind them said, "Well, I didn't know you decided to play for the other team," Riddle said. They turned to acknowledge the Slytherin who didn't look particularly happy. But really, when did Riddle look happy?

For some reason getting caught like this made Harry feel rather nervous. It had been a while since he had gotten that intense stare from Riddle. But then Harry had to ask himself why he thought Riddle discovering their relationship was the equivalent of being caught. He hadn't exactly been hiding the relationship from his or her friends.

"Oh this?" she said. "This is very casual. You should try dating casually some time. Harry's fun, I'll pass him to you if this doesn't work out."

Harry gave Winnie the most aghast and horrified look.

When Harry managed properly keep the red off his face and looked at Riddle, Harry thought he saw a strange expression on Riddle's face but it must have been his imagination because it was at least neutral at the moment.

Was his earlier theory right? Harry couldn't help but wonder if Riddle did like Winnie in that way if Riddle was behaving oddly now. Riddle certainly didn't look happy about this discovery. Maybe he had been waiting for Winnie to start trying to date guys again and was irritated that Harry was the first she was experimenting on? It could certainly explain his behavior.

"I'm surprised, I thought Harry here would be a marrying type," said Riddle, cocking his head. "Calculating" again. Every bloody time he did that, it caused Harry more trauma. And why did people keep thinking Harry was a marrying type? What a load.

… okay, he had to admit he did end up in 1943 on the premise that true love existed somewhere. But they certainly shouldn't know that.

"It's an open relationship," Winnie said. Harry nodded, keen on defending it, but Riddle kept looking at Harry, as if reading something.

"Really," he said, sounding as if he was challenging it.

But without another notice, Riddle about-faced and left the shop.

Winifred gave a look full of suspicion to the retreating Slytherin. "You know, he's never taken in interest in who I was dating before." She leaned her elbow on the nearby shelf and put her face in her palm.

Harry tried to shrug it off and tried to keep his head back on track. He noticed his heart had been beating quickly and took a few deep breaths to calm down. He wasn't sure why he felt that encounter could have gone badly. Wait, no, probably because Riddle was dangerous enough to spill blood if someone got in his way. He would keep an eye out in case Riddle jumped him from the shadows to get back at Harry for dating Winnie. "Probably because it's never been a guy before." He pulled out the cheaper bag, deciding to go for practicality. He wasn't sure what he could do for income next.

Winnie seemed to have her mind elsewhere as Harry paid for it, and said something that would bother him all day: "Also, did he even want to buy anything because he just entered and left..."

000000000000000

Harry still tasted a bit of butterbeer. They parted ways after the Three Broomsticks since Harry needed to return Ben's books to the library. While he was there, he checked out the book in his name, and when he left the library he was practically dancing in delight.

As walked down a corridor, he saw a number of Hufflepuffs chatting and laughing by the window. And in the group, he thought he saw a ghost. Metaphorically speaking. It was a face he thought he'd have never seen again. At the same time, however, he knew it wasn't possible.

The boy, clearly very charismatic, looked just like Cedric Diggory, if a bit younger than Harry last remembered. The same handsome chiseled face, but maybe more bronze colored hair and hazel eyes instead of grey. His face was maybe slimmer than Cedric's. Was this a grandfather? Or a great uncle? It's interesting that earlier this week he saw a Thestral when his first ability to see Thestrals was via the death of what was probably this boy's descendent.

Apparently he'd been staring too long again because the group of Hufflepuffs had turned to look at him. "Who's that?" "Oh it's that new student! Harry or something." "Is he looking at us all or just one person?"

Harry snapped out of his stupor because he rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry about that. I know someone who looks just like him," he said gesturing to the Cedric Diggory lookalike.

"I hope he's good looking then," the boy said, grinning, holding his hand out for a handshake. "I've seen you in Battle Club... I'm Cedric Diggory." – Harry twitched. – "Nice to meet you... Harry Key, is it?"

Harry's mind stopped working and his breath caught in his throat. Did he hear that correctly? That's impossible. Well, maybe more than probable that Amos Diggory named his son after a family member – Harry always thought he'd name his children after his parents – but this boy almost looked identical to Cedric of the 1990s too. "I'm sorry I didn't quite catch that. Did you say _Cedric_?" The apparently 1940s Cedric nodded happily, unaware of the struggle Harry was facing as he tried to get his mind functioning again.

" _Kill the spare."_

Deciding to stick around a bit, Harry asked, "So, um, what are you guys doing?"

"Playing 'Snap. You know how to play?"

Lying, Harry shook his head, deciding to allow them the conversation topic so he could focus on the not-dead Cedric Diggory. It was also probably easier this way, as someone once told him there were different variations of Exploding Snap. "How does he not know?" "Dolt! He was probably a prisoner of war, remember?" "But he plays Quidditch." "Everybody plays Quidditch!" "Everybody plays Exploding Snap." "Come on guys, shush. It's impolite to ask someone about this stuff when they were probably imprisoned for a long time." Cedric laughed weakly, clearly embarrassed by his friends.

"That's alright," Harry said to him, finally being able to breathe. "My Gryffindor yearmates are the same way. What year are you guys?"

"We're fifth years." "What about me?" "Okay, we're fifth years and one fourth year because she's dating this guy over here." "Thankfully, she's not with us all the time."

Well, that would explain why Harry hadn't seen Cedric Diggory earlier. He wasn't in Harry's classes and would have been surrounded by his friends. Also, Harry thought a little annoyed, this Cedric was taller than Harry as well.

The Hufflepuffs were a fairly large group – large enough that Harry had a hard time telling apart except for one guy who was apparently Tsang's older brother ("Yeah, sorry about her...") and one girl who was Michael's younger sister ("Don't even get me started."). There was also a Macmillan and, surprisingly, a Goyle and a Spinnet.

"Why aren't you guys in a common room?" Harry asked mid-game. It looked like this could have been the entire Hufflepuff class of fifth years.

"Oh, we study together in the library – we take one of the side rooms but this is our break where we get some sunlight and fresh air so here we are," Cedric said.

Tsang's brother said, "Oh, hey, I heard you're sort of dating Winifred Vance?"

When Harry confirmed it, there were a couple of interested murmurs but for the most part people went back to either leaning out the windows or continuing 'Snap.

Cedric gave Harry a funny look that Harry wasn't sure the meaning of, and stepped close to Harry so they could speak privately. "Last I heard, Vance was pretty strictly a gold star sort of girl."

"Gold star?"

"Hasn't been with a man before."

"She, um, changed her mind with me?" Oh, yes, Harry's voice did not sound confident about that.

Cedric gave him a doubtful look. But before Harry could inquire as to why, a female screeching came from the walls before a ghost flew into their corridor. "Olive is being naughty. Olive is being nauggghty. Come on, come on, come look with me!" It was Moaning Myrtle!

He heard some exclamations of surprise from the group near him. The Hufflepuffs seemed to collectively close in together and quickly walked back to the library. Cedric was still standing beside Harry. "I guess I should follow them. Wanna come with?" Harry shook his head. The Hufflepuff walked a couple steps to follow his yearmates – Myrtle was floating nearby, probably intrigued that Harry wanted to stay.

Then thinking better of it, Cedric turned around, put his hand on Harry's shoulder, and leaned in close to Harry's ear. Harry could feel his warm breath on his neck as he whispered, "The rest of the 'Puffs are a bit disturbed by the idea of Myrtle Warren's ghost. …she was... killed... less than a year ago. Sure you don't want to join us?" Cedric seemed to linger there, close to Harry, and looked into his emerald eyes seeming to look for something.

Harry felt a bit red from the proximity but shook his head apologetically. "I'd love to, but at the same time I get the itching feeling I should investigate."

Cedric looked disappointed but nodded. "You're definitely a Gryffindor. Well, see you later then." And he patted Harry on the arm.

Suddenly, Myrtle flew in until she was a couple inches in front of Harry's face. "Wanna see?" she said eerily. Eyes wide behind her glasses.

"Um, sure." He wanted to spend time with Myrtle. Like Hagrid, she was a victim of Riddle's crimes... even if she didn't look particularly disappointed in being dead at the moment.

After following Myrtle down several flights of stairs, she led him to a classroom. When he approached the door, he heard moaning inside.

"I don't think I should," Harry whispered to Myrtle.

Myrtle looked like she was going to bawl because he wasn't joining in on the fun, and Harry put his arms up to quiet her down.

But then he heard a groan that he recognized. A throaty, female sound that he knew well, because it sounded just like Winnie when they would snog. So his curiosity or instinct got the better of him, and without really thinking of the consequences, without thinking of using a spell to look in instead, he opened the unusually heavy door. The hinge creaked loudly at his action, and Harry looked in to see a familiar brunette between someone's legs.

It was Winifred, of course. Servicing a girl sexually. Servicing someone who wasn't her sort of boyfriend. Him.

Hearing the door open, Winifred turned around. "Harry!" It was said with surprise, only mixed with a dash of guilt.

The girl on the desk sat up, her legs still spread. She was a Slytherin with wavy brown hair that was clearly disheveled from the act, slightly arched dark eyebrows, and very subtle ugly sneer. There was a little beauty mark over her lip. And that must be Olive Hornby. She was distracted by the cackling Myrtle. "Leave me alone, Warren!"

She closed her robes and legs, and Winifred did the same.

To Harry's credit he didn't react badly. He just let go of the doorknob and turned to walk away. He agreed to this, right?

"Harry!" Winifred shouted after him. "Harry, you said you'd be okay with this." It seemed Winifred understood he was hurt even if he didn't blow up or even run away.

He stopped and turned around. When he looked at her again she lost that lovely glow he used to give her, blinded by his attraction. He saw instead just a 16-year-old girl, above average prettiness but a bit sweaty from her acts in the classroom, instead of the flawless goddess he made her out to be.

"I guess I was wrong," Harry said. "I'm sorry, you were right. I guess I'm not cut out for the open relationship."

"Wait! Can... Can we... Can we still be friends?" she asked.

Harry realized he can't really stay mad at her if she explicitly warned him about her lack of restraint when it came to her sexual desires. So he nodded. "Yeah. Maybe not right away... but yeah."

As he walked away, he wasn't sure but he thought he heard Olive Hornby's moaning continue.

He grabbed the red book in his bag and looked again at the cover. So he knew with a fair amount of certainty now that Winifred wasn't his true love anymore. But it was okay.

Because he was probably going home soon.

* * *

I always thought Cedric Diggory was written to be the nice, Hufflepuff version of Tom Riddle. Hope you liked this chapter!

My original intention was to drag out Harry and Winifred's relationship much longer than it did. But then, well.. it'll be explained next time!

Special thanks to GenderlessPerson of _Silk Roads_ fame for mentioning this fic!


	5. Answers and Questions

Author's Note: Oh boy, so I originally stopped writing because my sisters came to visit but then after they left I sort of lacked the momentum I needed to continue writing. That, and the thought that I wanted to move this story in a different direction than planned made pushing this out tough.

This does not make this delay okay, so I'm sorry. But thank you to all the people who kept reviewing and marking for updates in spite of my lack of new chapters in months. It kept this story on the forefront of my mind.

 **CHAPTER FIVE. ANSWERS AND QUESTIONS.**

...

What a bloody moron. Every hour or two, that was the only thing Harry could think. Should have known better. Almost every person who did have their head screwed on well, that is - Riddle, Cedric, and Winifred herself warned him the relationship was a bad idea.

And he couldn't have even blamed Winifred because, except for her teasing him on day one, he was the one who actually asked her out, he was the one who kissed her. She said they shouldn't. And somehow he was shocked when he found her with another person.

He couldn't stop thinking about it all, and it showed in his performance on the Pitch. He probably let something glittery and gold zip past his face twice since practice started and each time he just let his eyes follow the direction of the Snitch, apathetic, instead of actually pursuing it. He was distracted, but who could blame him when his breakup was just earlier this evening after dinner. Well, Harry had gone to the Kitchens when everyone else went to the Great Hall. His team noticed his overall mysterious solemn demeanor and it seemed to bring everyone down because everyone was playing in relative silence compared to their usual boisterous shouting. When they took water break, Mervin figured out the source of the moody atmosphere and nudged Harry.

"What's wrong, mate?"

Harry sighed. "Nothing. Just sort of out of it."

"Aren't you dating that Vance girl?" Michael said, wiping his forehead of sweat. "Just spend some time with her after this. That'll cheer ya' up- oh. Wow." Michael must have read his expression. "You two broke up?"

A teammate asked, "Weren't you just with her this morning at Hogsmeade?"

Quinsley poked her head in. "Why'd you break up?" She sounded awfully chipper. Was she happy he just had a break up? Sometimes she really annoyed him.

Harry frowned. "I couldn't really handle the 'open' part of the open relationship I guess. Caught her shagging someone else."

"Tough luck, mate," said another teammate.

"Ha ha, what a slag, she couldn't even keep her robes on and her legs closed for two weeks," he heard Quinsley taunted.

"Wait, no. NO," he said. He turned to glare at her. "Don't you call her that. I knew what was getting myself into." He took a deep breath. "She's still a good person. ALRIGHT?" In retrospect, he wasn't sure if he actually meant any of that, but a part of him still had a soft sport for the Ravenclaw. He kept going back between being resentful for Winifred falling short of being the fantasy girl and upset at himself for taking it so personally. Quinsley was just annoying him at the moment and he felt like lashing out at something- anything- to get rid of this horrible feeling inside.

Under his fiercely annoyed gaze, she faltered, and for the first time, really showing how much smaller she was. Her dark brown eyes seemed to start to moisten and get larger, and as her shame showed, her head dropped so she was staring at the ground. Yet Harry did nothing to stop it, and at the moment almost enjoyed getting a girl to react the way he wanted her to. "I - I - ... Sorry," Quinsley said before immediately going back up in the air.

The rest of the team was silent.

"Key," Michael said, using his deeper captain voice. "I know Quinsley has her faults but cut her some slack. She was trying make you feel better. Apologize. And soon," Michael said before taking another gulp of water and going up.

Harry frowned. The other teammates flew up, seeming to agree.

...

Later when they returned to the common room, Harry pulled Quinsley aside. She looked a bit uncomfortable but came along anyway. They sat along a couch near the fireplace, the fire replacing the effects of the warming charms from earlier. At first they didn't say anything, just watched the fire crackle and light up the warm furnishings in the common room. Most people by then had shuffled out of the room to get ready for bed. Harry wasn't quite ready to say anything yet but Quinsley seemed to be okay with waiting for him. When he calmed, he turned his body to face her, and she readjusted herself to sit cross-legged and face him, her eyes still downcast.

"Look, Quinsley," Harry said, after sighing and leaning on his elbow. "I'm really sorry about snapping at you earlier today." And as he said the words, he started to realize he meant it. He was a right jerk earlier.

She was staring at the empty seat cushion between them. Eventually, she whispered, "I'm sorry about what I said. It was mean to your friend."

Harry shook his head. "Don't be sorry; it wasn't your fault. You have every right to assume the best way of cheering me up is to talk badly about my ex... I just had a lot of pent up energy." And needed to blame the nearest witch, he didn't add.

"So.. so you're not mad? I can be a bit annoying," she said softly.

"Yeah.. yeah I'm not mad."

She changed her position so her knees were up to her face and she wrapped her arms around her legs. Harry thought she seemed rather fidgety. But she had a small smile on her face. "I guess... I guess it's like when I got mad at you for being good at being a Seeker?"

He laughed and gazed at her softly, glad she was taking it lightly now. "Yeah, kinda like that."

She was staring up at him, with her brown eyes slightly wider than normal, and he realized he was staring back. The light of the fireplace generated a lot of moving shadows on her face. The lighting also seemed to make her face look a little red.

"So, yeah, we're good?" Harry said.

She pulled her lips inwards and shut her mouth tightly, as if restraining herself from saying anything more, but she just nodded fervently. He got up, ruffled her hair and said good night.

...

Sunday dinner, when finally felt okay enough to not need to rely on going to the kitchens to get food, he went to the Great Hall. Absorbed in his thoughts, he was so distracted that he bumped into someone that immediately churned his stomach in distaste.

"Watch it!" exclaimed Olive Hornby. Her voice was grating to his ears, and filled with a demanding attitude. A slight sneer dressed her face as she was trying to open the door. Never before had he shared so much in common with Moaning Myrtle.

Harry mumbled polite but insincere apologies bitterly as she swung the Great Hall's doors open, whipping her hair in his face as she did so, and walked in, letting through the casual chatter of dinnertime. His gaze followed the girl that slept with his sort of girlfriend as she walked up the Slytherin table.

He noted mildly that Hornby walked over to sit to the left of Riddle, gushing over the stoic leader as soon as she sat down. Usually a platinum haired boy, probably the Abraxas Malfoy that Draco mentioned was his grandfather sat there. It was bizarre, but then he saw treacle tart sitting for the dessert course and Harry immediately sat with his seventh year friends.

...

Harry approached Dumbledore's office – it was so strange to think of this room as his office – after dinner. There was a Gryffindor first year in there who tried out a bad spell, judging from the small stature and the smell of burnt hair.

When Dumbledore saw Harry, he nodded. "Now, Mr. Patil, I'd like you to go to the hospital wing. Can you do that for me?" The boy nodded excitedly. "I need to work with Mr. Key here on catching him up to his seventh year courses." The first year nodded again and ran off. The door shut behind Harry and then it was just him and Dumbledore. The last time this happened, Harry was stunned and woke up bound. But they had an understanding now, and for a brief moment Harry reminisced about a familiar time when the man in front of him had a white beard.

"Mr. Key, I presume you have bad news?" Harry must have still been sad about the Winifred breakup.

"Oh. No," Harry pulled the book and an de-Transfigured robe from his new bag. "Here. I got a new bag so I'm returning your robe. And I found the book! Ben Solomon had it all along."

Dumbledore nodded. "That would make sense." Harry's former and/or future mentor took the two items. "I'll take a look at the book and update you as soon as I can. I'll let you know by class on Thursday.

...

Harry was for the most part done with his schoolwork, and so didn't need to use the library's copy of the textbooks. He was also done searching for The Red Book. But out of habit and needing some time away from his worried housemates, he went back to the library anyway. While he at first had been annoyed that he couldn't check out mandatory textbooks, he understood the reason. If students could check out schoolbooks no one would ever buy them and there were only so many copies the library had on hand. And over time the past couple weeks he grew to even like going to the library.

Pulling out random books to see what he could learn was actually fun, and the excitement that he got when he flipped through one reminded him of when he had first stepped into Diagon Alley and discovered the wonders of wizardry. Magic was amazing. It was too bad discovering the wizarding world was poisoned by the discovery there was a whole political party after his head.

But when he stepped into the library then, his stomach churned with discomfort. Winifred was in there sitting at the table she had been, the first time (and the last time) he'd seen her here. She looked up, as if expecting him – giving him a hopeful glance – but he looked away. He wasn't ready yet.

He looked around for other options. Apparently Riddle was curious at what Harry would do because he also looked up from his table in another corner.

Was there no peace to be had? He made a move to turn back to his dorm. He didn't need to be here anyway. But he saw Quinsley's brother walking into one of the side rooms and Harry decided to follow. When he walked in and the door had fully shut behind him he was greeted with joyous cries of "Harry!"

"Maybe you'll make it as a 'Puff after all!" said Michael's sister.

Harry took the moment to smile and look around. It was nice. There were four large tables, each with individual reading lamps and usual sources of rolls of parchment paper attached to the walls. It was kind of cozy. Apparently the big side rooms were probably only used and reserved by Hufflepuffs and the smaller rooms were for Ravenclaw study groups. Gryffindors weren't very studious (sans the occasional lone brilliant Lion) and Slytherins were solitary. He looked around and Cedric waved him over, indicating the seat he pulled over to make room.

"Glad you're joining, Harry," and Cedric gave a brilliant smile.

Harry realized he actually didn't have anything to read or work on so he pulled at one of the books Cedric had beside him, a reference guide of runes. Harry decided he could use the knowledge and leafed threw it. It was nice. If the Hufflepuffs had heard the rumor he and Quinsley had broken up, they didn't mention it, opting to just give him the quiet he needed instead of the nosy albeit well-meaning questions and comments by his housemates.

...

Time started passing by rather lazily. On Thursday, Dumbledore gave his apologies. With the war requiring him to do more planning and papers that needed grading he hadn't really had the time. He also had to read the animation papers the seventh year NEWT students had been working on for a while. Harry nodded, understanding. With any luck this would all be over soon and he wouldn't have to deal with this decade any longer.

He found solace in the familiar faces of home, having spent more time with Hagrid and the Thestrals, as well as Myrtle. She would complain about Olive Hornby and he would just listen.

The oddest thing she said, however, was that, "Being dead has been great! In the past days I had you and another boy talk to me without making fun of me. That's more than I ever had when I was alive."

...

The first match of the year, Slytherin vs Gryffindor, was coming up on the second Saturday of October. Right around this time Michael was booking more frequent opportunities to practice, so Harry had been fairly tired.

He was being worked so hard that Harry was actually able to recover from his breakup, and Harry was no longer stinging from the mistake with Winifred. Still, it was not as if he would seek her out. Michael had pointed out that there was only so much time that Harry could reasonably be upset for because Harry only had only known her for about a week before dating and then another week before promptly breaking up. In other words, "You better be completely over it by the Quidditch match. Don't make me put Quinsley up there as seeker instead of you."

Thursday came again, and while Dumbledore passed around everyone's papers, in addition to getting an O grade, Harry saw a note that read: "Please come to my office after dinner but before Quidditch practice."

When Harry arrived he saw the Old Three sitting in Dumbledore's office; he was greeted with a "I'm afraid I have some interesting news for you. "

Harry's eyebrows furrowed but he nodded for him to go on.

"First of all, the friend of yours who managed to read this must have been a very impressive witch. I had to use a reference guide in order to translate on top of my usual comprehension of the German language."

Harry smiled. "That's my Hermione, brightest witch of her generation."

"I would hope to meet this Hermione one day," Slughorn put out there.

But then Dumbledore became far more grave. "The second is that upon reading the ritual described in the book, I realized there was no specific potion in the process."

Harry frowned. "That can't be." His memory flashed to Hermione's frizzy hair over a cauldron.

"Granted, the ritual is triggered by drinking something purifying. But it even says in the instructions that there's no reason to use anything other than purified water. Did she have any animosity against you?"

"No, no. Hermione would never hurt me. We've been through a lot together. I'd have died for her, and she would have done the same."

"Then we should take a look at your memory via Pensieve. Professor Slughorn here can determine what she was trying to brew. Headmaster Dippet can confirm whether or not the runes in your ritual were written correctly," said Dumbledore. "But before that I need to explain your ritual." Dumbledore looked hesitant to continue, which made Harry nervous. It couldn't be good news. "According to the description, it does not explicitly say that your true partner will also be your true love. It is highly suggestive of it. The author comments that there a few little known examples of people who cast this ritual getting married but -"

No. The men paused. Oh, Harry said that aloud. "No that can't be possible. What's the ritual for if not for true love?"

Dippet sighed. "It appears it is more meant to find ones magical match, a yin to your yang. A true partner could mean anything like a business partner or lovers... A twin would find their twin with this potion... It's an interesting ritual, but its popularity is limited because of its limited usefulness"

Suddenly Tom Riddle's face appeared in his mind. Of course. Fucking. Tom. Riddle. The source of all of his problems tended to come back to Voldemort didn't it? Harry assumed being sworn enemies and the whole "marking him as his equal thing" would be enough to trigger this ritual.

He was blessed that the ritual at least sent him to a time when Voldemort was 50 years weaker and lacked a personal vendetta.

But Harry mentally swore at Hermione. How could she have made such a huge mistake as translating the ritual incorrectly? And what was that potion for? Then Harry realized that this was a good thing. It meant he could go back home to 1998 and live out his life knowing he didn't miss out on much. Winifred really wasn't a love opportunity lost.

"I guess this means I should start focusing on returning to the future?"

Dippet frowned, and looked at him with sad eyes. "If that is what you would please. Are you sure you don't want to at least find your true partner?"

"It's fine," Harry said, saying little about what he knew of Riddle, but when he turned his gaze upwards, Dumbledore was wearing a contemplative look. "Will seeing the future through my memory be a problem?"

"At this point it seems as if your presence here has had no bearing on your future. While we tried to keep your exposure at a minimum, that you've been here for weeks and had no sudden change in understanding of the Key family or yourself indicates viewing your memories will be safe."

"I could always Obliviate you.." At the serious expressions the men wore, Harry raised his hands in defense - "Kidding, kidding.."

They stepped into Harry's memory. His memory self was mostly busy with drawing the runes but every once in a while past/future Harry looked up to see what Hermione was doing. Around the third ingredient, Slughorn hmm-ed and hah-ed.

"Well, Horace?" asked Dippet.

After a few more ingredients and a counter-clockwise stir – "Her technique is very good – Definitely an O level student but not the drive and instinct of a Potential Potions Master. You know, I wonder if-"

"Dippet- about the potion?"

"Oh! Oh yes. Harry, my boy, it seems as if your friend was brewing a detox potion. Particularly one for long term mental afflictions like say an Amortentia."

Harry furrowed his brows. "I haven't taken any love potions." He'd seen Ron under a love potion and Harry has never acted like that. "Also I've been told I have very good will power. I've thrown off an Imperius and can withstand Veela allure." Of course that didn't mean Harry was good at holding back from fawning after pretty girls like Cho and Winnie. "What else is it used for?"

"Well if your friend is as smart as you say she is, then it's for a love potion. There are better antidotes for afflictions like General long term confounding."

"Mr. Key," said Dumbledore. "You did mention that your vision suddenly became better when you came here? It's possible that the detox removed the effects of whatever had made your vision significantly worse over time. Do you see better than when you were younger?"

"Not particularly. But it started getting terrible around end of fifth year."

"Any long term relationships?"

"Well, there's the girlfriend I had before I came here," Harry said. And upon thinking about Ginny, he suddenly felt the crushing weight of guilt. If he wasn't here for a true love, then he cheated on Ginny for no reason! (The Hermione in his head shouted, "YOU BROKE UP.")

"And it's not possible that was Amortentia?" asked Dippet.

"Amortentia causes infatuation, not true love," Harry said, remembering it vaguely.

"Well, that's not true..." came the voice of Slughorn.

Harry tilted his head. "You told me that. You told us during a lesson that Amortentia causes powerful infatuation or obsession. No love potion actually creates true love."

Slughorn blinked down at Harry. "That's certainly news to me."

Harry's mind started turning as this was alarming.

"Perhaps this was knowledge that was learned between now and when you had your lesson," Dippet offered. Harry nodded, but it still bothered him.

"What I had with my girlfriend was love," Harry said, though the more he thought it, the more he faltered. He certainly loved Ginny, but at the moment, he wondered if he just loved her like he would love Ron. He never wanted to kiss Ron, for sure.

"Maybe a slow poisoning. If offered at a low enough dosage it may slip past your defenses."

"Shouldn't a small dosage imply it would be easier for me to beat?" Harry wasn't particularly good at his theory but if it's anything like Muggle vaccines, he should be immune to love potions. And a high dosage would cause immediate behavior changes.

The trio of old men all looked perplex.

"That is true," Dippet said after a few minutes.

"Did an enemy perhaps poison you at one point?" Dumbledore asked.

Harry's brows furrowed. He looked through his memories and nothing stuck out. "I mean there were attempts... I mean I haven't had any toxic substances in my body except for..." Oh.

"Except for?" Asked Dippet.

"Well I mean that shouldn't count. I was healed immediately by Phoenix tears..." Harry thought allowed.

"What pray tell did you need Phoenix tears for?"

"Basilisk venom..."

"BASILISK VENOM," one of them exclaimed while the others were truly alarmed.

"I was twelve, if it hadn't killed me by now-"

"TWELVE!"

Good thing he didn't mention the Acromantula. If Harry didn't know better, these men panicked almost as much as the mother hens in his life; he imagined Molly, Minerva, and Pomfrey all acting in a similar manner. Once they all calmed down – Slughorn conjured a chair and started fanning himself – Dumbledore started hypothesizing.

"There's been no known survivors of Basilisk venom. It would be inhumane to test the combination of Basilisk venom and Phoenix tears, but this would be interesting to study. Perhaps we can test a mixture on creatures. Either case, we don't know what the Basilisk venom has done to your body, and even if the Phoenix tears merely neutralized the venom in your body, it may have made you uniquely susceptible to poisons."

"Or," Harry postulated, "My friend was just being careful and eliminating possibility of tampering before the ritual kicked in. I have had a close call with a Love Potion, at least once that I know of." Though that still required Hermione thinking Harry had been poisoned by a love potion even while dating Ginny.

The potion was always part of the plan, even when Hermione first came to him with the project. It was puzzling.

"We will look into this," Dippet said.

"In the meanwhile, it seems time for you to head to Quidditch practice," Dumbledore said approvingly.

"I'm sure we can keep him here a little longer," countered the Head of Slytherin.

...

Over the next few days, Harry was back in the library and hunted down every reference he could about love potions. Nothing in the books even tried to differentiate between symptoms of true love versus potion induced love.

It was driving him mad and every time he tried to rationalize and remember that he didn't act anything like Ron did when he was giving love potion and that he was still in love with Ginny during his hunt for Voldemort's Horcruxes, he remembered that Romilda didn't necessarily put Amortentia in the cauldron cakes. Then he would remember that Hermione was the one who gave him the potion and it became a question of how much he trusted Hermione's instincts. But then he'd think about how he still cared for Ginny's well-being and it just didn't seem like the tom-boyish Ginny would use love potions. Over and over again, he'd think through this in a circle.

At some point he thought he could use Amortentia on himself just to see what the effects were. He'd try a controlled environment with the Bearded Three keeping an eye on him, and if he acted completely out of character, it would rule out love potions.

As he was thinking of how well that would turn out, the portrait opened and Mervin bumbled in and shouted to the living room as a whole, "Let's go on an adventure!"

The house members that were in earshot – that is, everyone – paused in what they were doing before the non-seventh years went back to their homework. He approached the couch where Harry was lying down, and where Pippa and the others were sitting nearby.

"Why now?" Barty asked, chewing on his quill.

"Come on, it's seventh year and we're Gryffindors... and for some reason when I look at Harry, I just feel like I need to be somewhere like on a quest!"

Harry grabbed a nearby couch pillow and smashed it over his own face.

"Ha, well, are we going to trek through unused classrooms?" Michael said before snorting.

"Maybe we can see what's on the inside of the Slytherin dorms."

Mervin leaned in conspiratorially; in a whisper: "Let's go through the Forbidden Forest."

Poppy dropped her quill and then started cursing under her breath when ink stains got all over it. Then she grabbed a nearby book and flung it at Mervin.

"Calm down, woman!"

"ARE YOU MAD?"

"Not at night! I'm sure we can go.. in the morning?" He dodged another incoming book.

"I don't think knocking him out so he won't go into the forest will help if he still has to go to the infirmary either way, Poppy."

The first years in a distant table gathered up their things, probably fearful that she was so furious. Pippa grabbed the badge on her robe, "DO YOU SEE THIS, WEASLEY?" The "HG" lettering shone brightly. "I have a duty to my office!"

"Okay, so you won't be invited -"

"WEASLEY!"

"Sorry, okay... maybe..."

Pippa made a motion to grab at her inkwell.

"OKAY OKAY."

The topic dropped, Poppy went back to fixing her ruined paper. But when Harry sat up to look over at his friends, Mervin was gesturing to the other boys, so it's possible the plan was still on.

...

Later that evening, Harry got up to talk to Slughorn. The whole trial-by-potion idea sounded like a good one.

Slughorn wasn't happy about the idea of testing on a human subject, but Harry beat back, and argued that the only way they could know for sure what the effects of using Amortentia on him would be, was to actually test it on Harry himself. And when Slughorn kept trying to argue, Harry said he didn't feel comfortable returning home to his girlfriend if he didn't know if it was real. The lack of sleep over this was killing him.

So Slughorn agreed, tentatively. And said he'd talk to Dippet and Dumbledore.

On Harry's way back, he bumped into Riddle. This school was too small.

"Patrols will be starting soon, get back to your dorm."

Harry nodded absentmindedly, his personal shields down due to being lost in thought. Apparently, Riddle noticed Harry's defenses were lowered because he quickly attacked Harry with a binding spell.

At this point, Harry was alert, but it was a bit late since he couldn't move or speak. He tried to fight it and somehow will himself to break out of it, but Riddle said, "Calm down, I'm not going to hurt you."

Which of course only made Harry struggle under the spell more. After being dragged into an empty classroom, Riddle locked the door. "I'm going to release you. Do not attack me, I just want to talk," Riddle said forcefully. Somewhere inside Harry, he realized that Riddle didn't seem to be in a murdering type of mood at the moment, but he still didn't believe the bastard. He started planning his escape.

"I know you aren't who you say you are."

Harry stopped fighting, but after a pause, he started thinking really quickly to come up with some story to cover it up. Which part of his identity did he need to lie about this time?

"If you try to Obliviate me, I will know. I left several notes to myself, so don't even try. I won't expose you as long as I get the truth, understood?"

Harry didn't say anything. He couldn't, of course. But apparently Riddle seemed to think it was agreement because he finite'd the spell. Immediately Harry made a grab for his wand, but Riddle disarmed Harry before tying him up with ropes this time.

"CUT IT OUT," Harry said.

Riddle raised his eyebrows. "This is why I have trust issues." He twirled Harry's wand, again fascinated by it. "Who are you?"

"I'm Harrium Key."

"Enough. I am very aware that is a lie. … But perhaps you do go by Harry... What is your family name?"

"Key."

Riddle crossed his arms. "Anyone with half a brain and newspapers will know that the Key family is light haired."

"It's called genetics. I picked up the dark hair from my mother's side."

"And that would be...?"

"None of your business."

"Regardless, still a lie. The official version report of the attack on the Amsel family was sealed soon after you arrived here. That alone is suspicious enough for me to know there's something in your back story that needed to be kept hush, so I used my contacts to get the unofficial version of the report. You know what I found, _Harry_? No rescue was mentioned. And your accent... The Key family was high society. You neither have a posh accent, nor a Norwegian accent. You clearly come from Southern England, so tell me..." Riddle waved Harry's wand, and Harry was pulled suddenly very close to the Heir of Slytherin, so close that Harry was staring straight at Riddle's neck - damn it, he was two years older than Riddle, why was he so short by comparison? Harry struggled to gain his personal bubble back. Stupid Riddle and his stupid intimidation tactics. "Who are you?"

It must have been all the thinking about Hermione and love potions, because the first thing out of his mouth was, "Dagworth-Granger." Harry's eyes lit up in fear. Dagworth-Granger was the potioneer who'd one day discover that Love Potions can't manufacture real love. Is the real Dagworth-Granger currently a student? Not born yet? This wasn't good.

Apparently Riddle mistake the fear Harry was showing to reflect that Harry was telling the truth, because he looked suddenly bored and released Harry from the binds. Harry grabbed his wand back.

"Muggleborn then."

Taking a deep breath, and realizing he had a great opening, Harry said, "Half-blood. My mother was a witch from Surrey, and I was living outside of Great Britain for the past few years which is why I didn't go to Hogwarts, but then my parents were attacked so I was picked up as a ward of the British Ministry of Magic."

Immediately, Riddle's eyes narrowed. "Then why lie?"

"With the political climate the way it was, Dippet thought me working with a blank slate made it easy for me to be protected by a pureblood name," he continued seemlessly. In his head, Harry gave himself a pat on the back. He was getting good at this lying thing.

Riddle for a moment seemed to accept this and moved to let Harry out.

Well, that was close. Harry tried not to show too much relief, else giving up the game. "Don't tell anyone, 'kay?" Harry said.

Riddle looked out the window, disinterested, and Harry interpreted that to be agreement. But when Harry tried to unlock the door with an Alohomora and opened it when suddenly the door slammed violently shut.

Harry was unable to move, again. Though not bound by ropes, just frozen in place.

Great, now Riddle was showing off how many types of immobilizations he knew how to do on a person. Harry was uncomfortably stuck holding onto the doorknob and his wand with his right hand.

Riddle once again moved close to Harry, narrowing his eyes, and bent down to meet Harry's gaze. "You're lying."

"I'm not!" Harry managed to say. Oh good, he could talk. All the better for Riddle to interrogate him with.

Riddle stared intently at Harry before grabbing Harry's wrist. For a snake, the guy had a surprisingly warm grip. The prefect slid his hand slowly along Harry's and stopped at the Holly wand. "This is an Ollivander wand." How would Riddle even know that? Harry decided to just keep his mouth shut this time. If Riddle wasn't just guessing, Harry would be caught in another lie. And it was too late to claim his mother just home-schooled him in London since he wouldn't have lied about that to begin with... Maybe he could say that his local wandmaker had no matches so she sent him to her home country to get a wand? Harry was about to open his mouth but he realized, he had waited too long to respond. Riddle would know that Harry just managed to make that up. Harry was dreadful at lying.

Some realization was dawning on Riddle's face as he plucked the wand out. "This is the brother wand to mine."

"Unlikely. And even if that were true, I'm sure there are multiple students with cores from the same source..."

"Ollivander told me my core only had one brother, making the relationship particularly potent. There's a way to prove it, in any case."

Pointing his yew wand at the holly and vice versa, he cast a Wingardium Leviosa using both.

The golden connection formed, albeit a small one, since there was no real battle of the wills occurring. Echoes of the various spells taught in their lessons, and then some, were appearing. But Riddle cut it off quickly. Probably to prevent any evidence of dark spells from appearing, Harry theorized.

"Are you going to let me go now?"

Still thoughtful, Riddle released him and tossed back the holly wand. Using the distraction as an opportunity, Harry opened the exit and sprinted out. Riddle didn't follow, but Harry still ran straight back to the Common Room, in case Riddle realized that he still didn't get any actual answer to Harry's true identity.

…

When Harry got back to his bed, he was able to breath comfortably again. He was snuggled warmly under his comforter when the bed curtains were pulled open and he saw his roommates looking down at him. He groaned. "Go away."

Mervin whispered excitedly, "We're going to go exploring in the Forbidden Forest."

"And what about Poppy?"

"Obviously we won't tell her."

"Must I?"

"Are you Gryffindor or not?" Barty challenged.

Harry sighed a heavy sigh. He really didn't need so many adventures not when he came so close to danger not an hour before. "Okay... when?"

"Don't worry we'll be going after the Quidditch match," Michael said.

That wasn't at all what Harry was thinking about. Pulling the covers over his head, he grumbled out a "Fine" and with a wave of his hand, the bed curtains pulled close.

To his side, he heard Mervin quietly cheering a "Yes!"

…..

Saturday of the Quidditch match was here. Michael was giving them a straight forward pep talk: "We worked hard. Now let's go win!"

As they stood in the entryway, waiting to enter the Pitch, Harry was reminded of his excitement and anxiety of his first Quidditch match. Except this time, there was no pressure, there was no secrecy. His housemates out in the stands were wishing him the best. It was great.

Harry paused in his reminiscing and the memory of Quirrel and his bucking broom drifted into his mind. Not that he thought Riddle had any motive to kill him in this era, but the last time he let his guard down around the Slytherin King, he got bound up and interrogated.

"Mitch –"

"Yeah?"

"You're a sixth year, right?"

"Yeah." Mitch was a woman of few words.

"Does Tom Riddle usually watch Quidditch matches?"

"Yeah."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

Harry was surprised, Riddle didn't seem the type. It seemed like Harry may have said that out loud because Porter jumped in – "He always comes. It's easy to tell he's there because he's the one Slytherin that doesn't move around cheering or booing in the matches. I think he just shows up to be there but he's always reading some book.

That made sense. Riddle was there just to placate his followers and act like "one of them." It helped him relax a bit. He wouldn't be watching, really.

"AND LET'S WELCOME OUR GRYFFINDORS TO THE STAGE, LED BY CAPTAIN MICHAEL JOHNSON..."

….

Half an hour into the game, the score was tied 40-40. The teams here were evenly matched, and except for the usual bludger being flung around more violently towards the non-purebloods of the Gryffindor team, the animosity between the two houses wasn't nearly as vicious as it was in Harry's time.

Harry drifted at a moderate height, near the top of the stands, choosing not to expend that much energy and just basking in what will be one of the sunnier games of the year while the Slytherin Seeker occasionally moved up or down, maybe to see if Harry would follow.

He looked over to his friends in the Gryffindor stands and he smiled. Everyone was sporting a gold and red, and Poppy was levitating a big banner that said "STAY SAFE, HARRY!" It warmed his heart. He wondered absentmindedly if the Gryffindor stands was where the Snitch usually rested between its appearances on the field. The fluttering ball of gold would certainly blend in...

It gave him an idea, he started drifting around the edges of the Pitch, discretely glancing at the audience stands. The student announcer made a teasing reference to "LOOKS LIKE SOMEONE IS MAKING SOME SERIOSLY SLOW ROUNDS. MOVE IT ALONG, KEY," but the Slytherin seeker didn't seem to pay any mind to Harry, since it didn't seem like Harry had spotted anything yet. Instead, the other seeker moved closer to the center of the action.

Logically, that would put the Slytherin at an advantage. If the Snitch showed up anywhere other than where Harry was, say- the opposite side of the Pitch or the center, Harry wouldn't get it in time.

But he also figured that it would take more effort for the other seeker to look in all directions than it would for Harry to focus on the edges of the Pitch, where his instincts told him the Snitch was likely hiding today.

He looked into the various stands.. Gryffindor... Hufflepuff.. Guests... Ravenclaw... Slytherin -

Harry met the eyes of Tom Riddle, who, true to his teammates words, had a book in his lap. But unlike what they described, it looked like Riddle was actually watching the match. Or rather, he was watching Harry. Harry squashed the strange feeling that was growing inside him. It wasn't like the first time Riddle had directed his attention at him. And it wouldn't be the last, if you consider what Harry knew of the future.

"I wasn't aware I was so distracting," said Riddle, smirking, reminding Harry that he was in a middle of the game. Harry huffed, but then the corner of his mouth twitched upward.

"On the contrary..." Harry flew closer and reached his arm outward toward Riddle, only to grab the gold Snitch hovering silently a few feet above his head. "... I hardly noticed you were there."

Harry quickly backed away from the stand, holding the Snitch high in the air.

"WHAT'S THAT? MY GOD. KEY HAS IT! KEY HAS THE SNITCH! THE GAME IS 200-70. GRYFFINDOR WINS!"

Harry's heart was beating really quickly. The victory adrenaline rush, for sure.

….

"Sorry, Harry," said Slughorn. "I know you want to try out the Amortentia and find a way home, but Grindelwald nearly took Beauxbatons the other day. Professors Dumbledore and Dippet have been working on adding new protections to all the schools."

….

Next Saturday morning, the Gryffindor seventh year boys got up bright and early, grabbed a quick breakfast, and headed to an edge of the Forbidden Forest. Harry made sure that along the entire edge of the forest that they chose one that wouldn't accidentally lead them close to Aragog's nest. Not like Aragog would be big as Harry would remember, but the bite even from a bike-sized spider may still be very damaging. Harry grabbed bezoars from Slughorn in case anything went wrong, and read up on some survival spells before today.

"This is going to be great!" said Mervin.

"Keep it down, don't want to attract any dangerous elements," Benjamin said, who came prepared with snacks from breakfast in case they were in the Forest past lunch.

….

A few minutes into their trip, they stopped by a small stream. Harry heard some hooves and assumed they were centaurs but he turned he saw Thestrals. He grinned and approached them.

"What're you doing, mate?"

"Thestrals are here."

The others nodded but mostly shrugged. It was morbid, but otherwise uninteresting to them. One thestral lowered itself, as if to get Harry to climb on top. Harry shook his head but pet it anyway. A second thestral tried to chew on his wand, as if confused about it. Another started nudging him, as if to push them back in the direction of Hogwarts.

"It'll be okay," Harry said quietly to them. "We're not planning to go too deep."

Regardless, the small herd stayed with them, and Harry wasn't stupid enough to deny how useful they'd be in case anything did happen. He let the others lead the way, and Harry looked around for any potential dangers.

Half an hour later, Mervin collapsed onto a stump. "This is boring."

"This was your idea," grumbled Barty, who went into Ben's bag to grab a piece of fruit.

"Obviously the safer areas aren't really quest material," said Ben. "Let's just -"

Mervin had perked up and made a heroic pose. "That's a great idea, Ben, let's go deeper!"

"No," came the unanimous cry. ("That's not what I said at all," mumbled Ben.)

"Come on.." he whined back.

"We don't actually know what's in there. There could be Lethifolds, or poisonous snakes, or rabid bats... This Forest is Forbidden for a reason."

"It can't be that bad. If there was anything truly dangerous it probably wandered near the school at some point and was dealt with...?"

"Let's go back, Mervin. Lunch? A big feast awaits you..."

Sighing, Mervin grumbled an agreement.

As they made to turn, Harry heard twigs snapping, a thump, and Ben's sudden screams. "HELP!"

Harry had his wand out before the others even processed what they were seeing.

Crap. Young Aragog had somehow managed to find them. Harry thought he'd been cautious but it looks like this Aragog hadn't created his nest yet and was in the area to scavenge. And considering it was still the size of a coffee table, possibly even avoiding larger predators in the Deeper end of the forest.

"Guys, help me!" There was webbing attached to Ben's leg and the surprisingly strong giant spider was pulling him in.

"STUPEFY!"

Harry's spell hit the spot the Acromantula had just occupied, but Aragog was too fast and jumped to the side. Aragog made an angry clipping sound as he continued to pull Ben into a denser part of the Forest.

"BEN!"

"INCENDIO! LACERO!" shouted Barty from behind him, apparently the first of his friends to wake up from their shocked trance. The two spells missed entirely and hit nearby trees instead. Harry just managed to jump out of the way of a falling branch.

"YOU'RE GOING TO HURT BEN!" Harry shouted back. He pointed his holly wand ahead and shouted a "IMPEDIMENTA." Missed.

"Shit shit shit!" said Michael behind him.

As Harry tried stopping the flames so he could continue pursuing Aragog and Ben, he looked behind him to see a swarm of angry doxies whose home had just caught on fire. They started attacking his friends and he heard several yelps of pain. They were being bitten.

Damn they were getting in his way. Now they'll need medical help for those bites too.

Looking ahead to where Aragog was still pulling Ben deeper and deeper, Harry made a decision. He whistled, catching the attention of the Thestrals and pointed vigorously to his friends.

The thestrals understood immediately and grabbing the boys by their collars threw them on each others backs. Another thestral was beating its wings to fight off the doxies.

"GET HELP!" he shouted after them as the thestral herd flew his friends to safety.

Now able to concentrate with one problem at a time, Harry ran after Aragog, trying not to trip while shooting some binding curses. It was hard to shoot spells, though, since the spider was able to duck behind Ben while pulling him and change directions very easily. As they continued stumbling quickly through the trees, Harry tried casting spells on Ben to get him away from Aragog instead of stopping the spider itself. He cast a silent Levicorpus but his spell was weak due to his exhaustion and Aragog was able to pull Ben away as soon as the body started to lift.

At this point he wasn't sure how deep they were in the Forest. And then a thought occurred to him. Talking to Aragog distracted the spider long enough last time – "ARAGOG!"

The Acromantula paused and made an angry scissor-like sound. "You know my name."

Harry managed to just catch up, but the spider was still in an attack position.

"This human is mine. I am hungry. Leave and I will spare you."

"You know Hagrid wouldn't like that. He didn't teach you to eat people," Harry was trying to catch his breath. Must have fallen unconscious in the shuffle. Harry wasn't sure if it was because he passed out or because the spider bit him.

"I am alone. This human is mine."

Huh. "Hagrid doesn't know where you are," Harry guessed. "I'm absolutely sure he would feed you steaks if he knew you were okay." Harry walked slowly, trying to regain strength.

All of the spider's eyes were on Harry, he was sure it would see even a slightest movement of Harry's wand arm, but at this proximity, he would be able to attack Aragog without threat of hurting Ben.

"You lie. This human is mine."

Thinking to his past (future) interactions with the spider, he remembered that Acromantulas weren't exactly native to the Forest and yet he had a large colony of children. "Hagrid.. Hagrid will bring you a wife – a mate."

This seemed to interest Aragog enough that Harry was able to shoot a stunner at the spider, missing the body but getting a leg. He quickly severed the webbing, stuffed a bezoar from his pocket down Ben's throat, cast a Levicorpus on his friend, and willed the body to follow along as Harry ran away from the spider.

At this point however, Harry had no idea where he was. He didn't know which direction was safety and which direction was deeper into the dangerous forest.

"Point me." His wand started spinning but before he could see where it could stop, he heard a very fast moving danger – Aragog was scurrying towards Harry.

Instinctively, Harry backed away, only to fall in a mud puddle. From the corner of his eye, he could see his wand-compass point to indicate that the general direction of Hogwarts was the same direction as where Aragog was coming from. They were fucked.

"Avada Kedavra," came the level, familiar, and, for the first time in history, comforting voice of Tom Marvolo Riddle, followed by a brilliant green light.

But where on an inhale of breath, Harry felt relieved, the following exhale made Harry realize a dark truth.

"You.. you killed him."

Riddle was incredulous. "He was a monster." Pot, meet kettle.

"You... you killed... him..."

"And here I was expecting to be showered with gratitude. Are you angry I used an Unforgiveable to protect a student? They'll probably give me an award for killing the damn beast, not thrown into Azkaban."

If the world didn't collapse on itself now, it should have. Aragog was dead. Here was irrevocable evidence of the timeline being fucked and nothing happened. The death of this creature, one he was sure would be alive fifty years from now, didn't cause a paradox.

But what did that mean? Did it mean nothing he did now would change the future? Was this an alternate dimension? Or, worse, was his future truly lost, and the only semblance of what he knew of the late century was now just a memory in his mind? Harry couldn't think straight, and being exhasted and covered with mud didn't help.

"I've never met anyone so Gryffindor. A hero complex combined with a naive morality? Come on, Key, or Dagworth-Granger, or Harry, whoever you are. You and Solomon need to be checked for Acromantula poisoning."

And with slow, trepid steps, Harry Potter followed Voldemort to safety, stepping over the body of an eight-legged paradox.


	6. One is Lonely, Three's Company

**CHAPTER SIX.**

 **ONE IS THE LONELIEST NUMBER, THREE'S COMPANY.**

Warning: Higher rating content.

...

After a mostly silent trek, they finally stepped out of the forest – once able to breathe in the cool breeze of open air, Harry sighed in relief. Safe. He looked around for his friends and the thestrals but he saw neither. Out in the distance, however, he saw a few specks running towards them.

From this distance, he could observe that one speck was growing at a faster rate than the others – Hagrid, probably with his long, half-giant strides. A few seconds later, Harry noticed the unmistakeable limp of Kettleburn who was running remarkably quickly in spite of his peg leg; probably part of the job requirements as professor of the creatures class. It took a little longer to identify the third but he was able to confirm soon it was Dippet.

While walking forward to meet up with the help, Harry looked up at Riddle who somehow had not a hair out of place, looking as if he didn't just walk in and out of a forest filled with falling autumn leaves and tree roots that desired to trip all who entered. Disgustingly too composed.

"How did you know where to find us anyway? Do you normally just wander the deep end of the Forbidden Forest as a past time?" Harry asked when it occurred to him that Riddle's rescue, while appreciated, was far from the 'I was just in the neighborhood' excuse.

Dark coal eyes flickered to Harry before turning back to the quickly arriving guests. "Don't be daft. I was nearby when your housemates flew out of the forest, screaming about how you and Solomon were being attacked. I instructed them to contact a professor and go straight to the hospital wing."

"Wha's goin' on'? The danger over?" said a worried panting Hagrid.

Harry nodded, unsure yet of how much to reveal. Although he was glad the malicious man-eating spider was now dead, he felt sorrow for his friend who had found solace in the similarly unwanted beast. He hoped Hagrid could find a less dangerous companion soon.

"Mr. Key, your friends informed me that the Acromantula that allegedly attacked students last year was to blame for this debacle. I had wondered where it went..." Kettleburn looked sternly at Hagrid, who was staring at his feet nervously.

"Is everyone okay?" Dippet asked, looking behind the dark haired boys to see if there were any stragglers or danger.

"Everyone is accounted for, Headmaster," said Riddle, putting on his O-student smooth tone on. "The Acromantula that was attacking Mr. Solomon and Mr. Key has been defeated."

Hagrid looked up, mouth agape and horrified, his beady warm eyes starting to water. The despair in his eyes was so moving, Harry wanted to embrace him. "Di- did 'e suffer?" he said close to sniffling.

"No," Harry said, comfortingly. Riddle shot Harry a disbelieving side glance. "I think I managed to rescue Ben before the Acromantula did any harm, but I used a bezoar that I borrowed from Professor Slughorn just in case."

"Wonderful job, Harry. How was the beast defeated?"

Harry opened his mouth as if to speak but stopped when he remembered Hagrid was still distraught and probably wouldn't take this well. Kettleburn coughed. "Headmaster, I think we can get the official story later? Perhaps when the boys have gotten checked over in the Infirmary and when you get the details from the others in their party?" he reasoned. Though it looked like he was just saving his protege from the gory details.

"Ah, yes. That's a good point, Professor. Hurry along now, boys. Let's get you and your friends together again. And," looking at Ben who was still hanging from his ankles from the Levicorpus, "Let's get your friend right side up. All that blood rushing to his head can't be good for him." He released Harry's spell and levitated the still unconscious Gryffindor to be horizontal before moving the body along.

…

For some reason Harry wasn't sure of yet, Riddle accompanied them. He didn't know what the Slytherin was playing at. He was too tired to start theorizing, however.

Upon entering the Hospital Wing, Harry was greeted with cheer and relief. Poppy ran to hug him, but as he was still covered with mud and foliage, she cast a cleaning charm before embracing him tightly. "I'm so relieved!" He smiled down at her, and she smiled back before promptly swatting his head. "I can't believe you went along with this plot! I thought you'd be better than this." Harry wasn't sure how to respond, but, then, teary eyed, she hugged him again. "Oh, you - thanks for saving Ben, and everyone, really! I don't know what would have happened if you weren't there."

Women.

Good grief.

Poppy stepped back and examined Harry while the actual school nurse had Dippet placed Ben down on a hospital bed. Everyone looked with baited breath as she did her diagnostics. After a few minutes, she nodded to them. "Well. Looks like he'll be fine, poor thing."

A quiet whoop came from Mervin's direction.

"He's got some broken bones and torn muscles from the attack, but his organs are otherwise undamaged. Even if he did get bitten, you did some quick thinking, Mr. Key. Do you need to be examined?"

"I wasn't bitten. I think I'll be fine, I'm just dirty."

The nurse nodded again.

"So, students, can I get a story from you all?" asked Dippet.

There was a pause as the members of the quest gave each other glances.

"Well," Mervin started. "I just felt that as Gryffindors, we wanted to have a little fun and go on an adventure as our destiny foretold... So, we decided -" Barty coughed not so subtly. "Or, well – I decided that we should go explore the Forest... Poppy – err, Pippa – told us not to but we sort of snuck behind her back. We went in the morning though! And I promised I wouldn't go further than the main clearing. We were at the edge when we decided to head back, actually... That's when we heard Ben scream and this huge spider – that I think was said to be Slytherin's monster last year? I'm confused about that – dragging him away.

"Then Harry comes in and like in one of those Gryffindor legends, starts attacking the spider."

"Just Harry?" Dippet asked, looking approvingly at him. Harry flushed.

"Yeah, we were all a bit frozen in shock, I'm ashamed to say," Michael filled in.

"That's fine, that's fine. It's normal when faced with a threat to yourself and your friends," Dippet said comfortingly.

"Then Barty kind of shook out of it first and sent spells too."

Here, Barty dropped his head. "I messed up. I couldn't aim," said a nervous Barty Crouch. "I – I guess I need to practice under the pressure more, but I ended up disturbing a doxy nest and that's when they attacked us."

"Harry had his thestrals then pick us up and take us back when we found Riddle, then you and then Kettleburn. And that's all we know."

They looked towards Harry who was then expected to continue. Harry nodded. "I ran after the Acromantula and kept trying to use Impedimenta or binders or stunners on it, so if I accidentally hit Ben it wouldn't do much damage, but the spider was very fast there were a lot of trees in the way. Eventually I distracted it by talking to it."

"Talking to it? Those things talk?" said Mervin.

"Well, at least this one did." And finding an opportunity to help out Hagrid, Harry said, "I used Hagrid's name, and out of loyalty to his master, it got the spider to reconsider hurting us." There, that out to lower any blow-back to his large friend.

"Really?" said Dippet with his brows furrowed. "That is very interesting."

"But just to be safe, I stunned it and ran off with Ben. Apparently the stunner didn't hold because when I got far enough I heard it coming towards me, and at the same time, I learned that I was stuck either going deeper into the Forest and risking a bigger threat or charging ahead and fighting the spider who was now angry that I attacked it. And that's when..." Harry tilted his head at Riddle.

Taking the cue, Riddle said simply, "And that's when I killed it."

"Oh, very impressive, Mr. Riddle. How did you do so?" Dippet said.

Riddle put his hands together, trying to look meek before putting on his best remorseful face. "Well, I cast the Killing Curse..."

Harry heard a few gasps, and Dippet's hat looked like it was going to fall off.

Riddle dropped his tone to fake humility, "Will I... Will I be expelled? Sent to Azkaban? I didn't know quite what to do. It was mentioned in our studies, and I just saw the students in danger and all I could think about was wanting the beast dead." Grade A acting. If Harry was knew nothing except how good of a student Riddle was, he'd have believed it.

Dippet put his hand on Riddle's shoulder. "Nonsense, my boy. You did a brave thing. Perhaps there could be better spell choices out there, but you had little time to think and managed to save Mr. Solomon and Mr. Key from imminent death. I'm proud of you." The headmaster sighed. "And now for punishments.

"For risking your schoolmates lives, Mr. Weasley you will be serving a month's worth of detentions and I must take away fifty points from Gryffindor for your brash behavior.

"For attempting to stop them, Miss Merrythought, I award you five points.

"For the rest of the party, I will take five points from each of you for going along with Mr. Weasley's plans.

"Mr. Key, for saving your remaining friends and chasing after the other at risk of your own life, I award you fifty points.

"Mr. Riddle. For putting yourself on the line to save your fellow student, I award you twenty points to Slytherin.

"The matter of the Acromantula will be decided upon with the Ministry. We may collect the remains to be studied, but for the time being, I consider this matter closed. You have the rest of the year and the NEWTs ahead of you. Stay out of the Forbidden Forest. Am I clear?"

The Gryffindors nodded with fervor. "Crystal," said Barty.

As Dippet turned to leave, Harry stopped him with a hurried whisper – "You, me, and the other two professors – we need to talk." Dippet furrowed his brows, not sure what Harry needed to say, but knew what it may be about. He arranged for a meeting the next morning.

Harry returned to his friends who were talking among themselves and Riddle who was still there for some reason, probably curious as to what Harry had talked to Dippet about. Riddle was too curious about everything. Within moments, they heard Ben waking up. "Ugh, what happened? Am I dead?"

"You're fine, Ben," Poppy said by his beside, hand over his forehead.

"Dippet took five points from you, can you believe it? You get dragged by a giant spider and -"

"WEASLEY," she snapped.

"Sorry, Poppy."

"Who saved me?" Ben asked.

"Harry and Riddle," said Poppy.

Ben nodded. "Thanks, you two. I don't know how a life debt would work with two people, but..."

"Don't worry about it, Ben," said Harry.

Riddle shrugged, but Harry could discern from the corner of his eye that he was annoyed at having to save face by denying a chance to get a life debt in his pocket.

Before Ben could protest, Harry said with finality: "You'd have done the same for me."

"Of course, though probably not as effectively."

Harry heard a huff, like an exhale from Riddle. Was that a laugh?

"Anyways, all..." Harry said, "I'm glad you're alright. I need to go shower and then sleep through dinner."

"Bye, Harry!"

As Harry walked out, he heard steady footsteps behind him. As he walked the length of three portraits, the person behind him had no words, so Harry knew who it was without having to turn around. "What now, Riddle?"

"Do I get a life debt from you?" Harry could practically hear the the upturn of Riddle's lips as he asked that.

Harry stopped immediately, his shoes almost screeching against the floor. He turned to look at Riddle who had his arms held behind him casually, looking all smug with his stupid smirk and his stupid sweater, and replied, "No. Absolutely not." The absurdity! A life debt to a future nemesis? Can you even kill someone that owes you a life debt?

That needed research.

Because Harry imagined someone who owed a life debt couldn't kill the person they owed their life to. And if Harry actually couldn't kill Riddle anymore, and well, wouldn't that be a paradox? Well, no. Aragog proved something.. it proved that it's now actually possible Harry couldn't kill Voldemort. He really needed to do research and talk to Dippet about this whole paradox business.

Harry's head hurt. Time travel logic was the worst.

"Really? I highly doubt you can just say no." And Riddle was right. Otherwise Snape or Pettigrew would have refused their life debts. And this would mean Ben might owe some sort of debt to either of them. Though if the life debt rules were so loose, it would mean half the wizarding world probably owed Harry a life debt of some sort after defeating Voldemort (and not just once) and that was certainly never the case.

A morbid part of Harry thought that was perhaps why people had kept dying for him, and Harry immediately shook that thought away.

"I'll think about it," Harry said, on the off chance there was something more to this life debt thing. "But don't count on it. Just assume I don't owe you. Besides, in spite of what you did, I would have survived on my own – I could have run left or right, caused the spider to chase me and freeing up my path back to the castle."

Whatever Magic ruled the laws of life debts, he hoped it would be enough that Harry had faced off with Acromantulas several times and survived, so Riddle saving Harry hadn't been strictly necessary.

"I'm sure," said Riddle cryptically, Harry thought it should have been said with irony but the Slytherin seemed almost sincere. "By the way, how did you know the spider belonged to Hagrid?"

Harry panicked privately for a moment before recalling, "Oh, Kettleburn mentioned it to us in class some time after introducing Hagrid as his assistant."

A few more steps of silence. Harry hated these sporadic interrogations.

Riddle spoke up again, "Why do you hate me?"

Harry was caught off guard – "What?"

"Why do you hate me?" Riddle repeated. "Most people at least appreciate it when someone saves their life, or attempts to, if you must insist on denying it."

"You're just... you're just very dislikable," Harry said, too tired to come up with anything clever on the fly.

Reaching stairs, Harry sped off in the direction of the Gryffindor dorms, fleeing from Riddle before the Slytherin could interrogate Harry any further.

…

On his way back, Harry bumped into Cedric who looked to have come from the direction of the Gryffindor Common Room.

"Harry! I was worried since I hadn't seen you in a while -" The Hufflepuff smiled before taking in Harry's appearance and leaned back. "And exactly what happened to you?"

"Long story," Harry said, with laughter in his voice.

"Tell me sometime, since I imagine the rumor mill version won't be as good as the real deal."

Harry smiled. "Sure thing. Anyways, I'm headed to the Gryffindor dorms to get cleaned up."

"Wait, you're not going to use the prefect bath? You'd deserve it."

The statement was said innocently enough, but Harry was starting to be alarmed by the similarities between this Cedric and Cedric of the 1990s. Back to the point, he didn't quite understand, "Why would I use the prefect bath?"

"I imagine being close friends with the head girl, prefects, and your Quidditch captain that someone would have invited you by this point!" Cedric said. Harry never realized he was so well-connected, but then again it probably came with the territory of being an upper year. Cedric paused as if to consider something, a smile creeping on his lips. "I bring friends over all the time. Maybe sharing is just a Hufflepuff thing. Strictly speaking, keeping membership limited is what prevents us from bumping into each other in the bath, but the trick is to go when it's unlikely for us prefects to bump into each other. Like, say, after curfew when everyone is patrolling." Harry wasn't sure where Cedric was going with this. The normally composed boy seemed a bit.. babbly. "Actually... Tomorrow happens to be my night off from rounds. What do you think?"

Harry was confused. Apparently that was evident in his face because Cedric clarified that he wanted to treat Harry to time in the prefect's bathroom.

Recalling the bath, Harry missed it. It was a wonderful experience.

"Sure -"

Cedric was all smiles. "Great! Meet me at the fifth floor behind the fourth door to the left of a statue of Boris the Bewildered a little before curfew so no one gives you any trouble."

...

On Sunday morning, Harry got a quick note with a time and place for the meeting with the Old Three, and went straight to the Headmaster's office after dinner.

It was strange to go to the gargoyle and not need to immediately come up with candy related passwords, but as Harry approached, it occurred to him that the password wasn't given in the note. When he stopped in front of the gargoyle, Harry asked an awkward, "I'm here for a meeting?"

The gargoyle nodded and stepped aside for Harry to step onto the rotating staircase.

Upon entering, Harry saw the three already sitting and Harry took the remaining seat. "Professors. Headmaster. I'm surprised I didn't need a password."

"Password?" said Dippet. "The headmaster's office has never required a password; his door is always open to his students. Your future Hogwarts is peculiar." Harry restrained himself from looking at Dumbledore with disbelief. All those candy passwords were just a ruse!

"So what is it that you wanted to speak to us about?" asked Dumbledore. "I heard a most peculiar story... Mr. Riddle cast an Unforgiveable and went unpunished..."

"Come off it, Albus. Mr. Riddle is a fine boy, defending his fellow wizard," said Dippet. Slughorn nodded in full agreement.

"What about Mr. Hagrid?" asked Dumbledore. "It's become clear time and time again that he was not the perpetrator in the attacks on students last year."

"Albus. I know it isn't fair, but look at it from this perspective: the boy and his beast are in Hogwarts, students are attacked in Hogwarts. The beast escapes to the Forbidden Forest and an attack is made on a group of boys who decide to explore the Forbidden Forest. This would lead anyone to easily conclude that there was a correlation between Mr. Hagrid's expulsion and the lack of threat against students. The board of governors will close the school if they discover I reinstate the boy. It will already take all my energy to keep the boy here, and I'm doing it as a favor for you."

Dumbledore looked disappointed, but he did seem to see reason. "I suppose as long as we don't know what attacked the students last year, we'll be unable to clear the boy's name."

"Actually, it's about something else," Harry said, speaking up. "You see, in my time, Aragog was still alive." The heavy silence indicated that the men were following Harry's alarming discovery. "But as Riddle has killed it and I still remember Aragog being alive in the future... I'm not sure what to think." Harry wondered if he should also let them know who the Heir of Slytherin and Slytherin's monster were. But as two of the three men in front of him absolutely adored Riddle, he doubted even his status as time traveler could convince them that the Slytherin was anything but a muggleborn, orphaned model student with a bright future.

Dippet nodded. "That is very interesting. Yes... very interesting indeed." When Harry asked if Dippet knew what it meant, the headmaster shook his head.

"Unfortunately, several theories of how time travel works exist. The time turner works in one way – never allowing you to change what you already know, as to prevent a paradox. But your ritual was perhaps the first true case of accidental distance travel, where it would be much more difficult to prevent changes to your future."

"Is it.. is it now impossible for me to return to my time and assume everything is normal? Is my time here just an illusion?" That would be great. It would skip over all of the battle and Harry would never have to deal with the question of whether he owed Voldemort a life debt because Voldemort would be unable to collect.

"Perhaps, but even if we told you that we certainly feel like we are real and not figments of your subconscious, it would be difficult to prove. A second theory may say that as you are here, your future is being erased and replaced. If you did manage to find yourself back in your Time, everything in between would change as a consequence of your presence here, and nothing would be the same, though your memories would probably be preserved. Perhaps your return to.. When was it?"

"1990s."

"Right, a return to the 1990s may end in your nonexistence, perhaps you would replace the new Harry of that time. Third theory says your arrival here actually splintered time itself. So that your true history remains the same while this new timeline with your presence veers off. Time travel causing inter-dimension travel, essentially."

"With the first theory, you may eventually awaken on your own, in which case your time here is inconsequential. The second theory means you may never return home as the way you knew it. And the third leaves room for you to actively seek a way back, abandoning this world but going back to where you belong. Those are the three I would guess could be the main explanations."

Harry was at a loss. He was sure there were other explanations too. The types of ways that time travel would occur was so various. Eliminating Aragog only eliminated a seemingly minor number of options, primarily, that this was like time turner travel where you can't actually change the future. He thought he'd get answers today. Not the case it seemed.

"So effectively you're telling me, you don't know."

"We're so sorry, Harry."

Harry sighed, and moved his fingers through his hair. This seemed hopeless. "And about finding a ritual to get me back on the off chance it's theory three?"

Dippet looked even more regretful than he did a moment ago, which was telling. "I give you my deepest sympathies, but at this point we need to focus on our war with the Dark Lord Grindelwald, you understand." Harry frowned and nodded, glum. "I'm afraid we can't dedicate any more time to helping you research. But..." Dippet pulled out some parchment from his desk. "I will sign you an all-access pass to the Restricted Section for you to use for your research. The school's resources are at your disposal, and.." Dippet thought some more. "How old are you, Harry?"

"Eighteen."

"You are in your majority then – I'll also allow you the rights to leave the grounds at your will."

"Headmaster," Dumbledore protested.

"Albus, I know what you are going to say, but given the circumstances, Harry here needs, nay, deserves the freedom. Harry, if you need anything else or have any questions, feel free to ask."

Harry nodded, and thanked the generous headmaster. While the opportunity was welcome, Harry felt like he took several steps backwards in progress.

He was now effectively alone in his journey.

…

That evening when Harry waited by the prefect's bathroom, Harry found himself surprised that Cedric wanted to be there as well. But Harry ignored it. He'd been so tired and disappointed as of late and he really needed a nice shower.

Preserving his modesty, Harry made sure Cedric had been looking away when he removed the towel at his waist and dipped into the warm bubbly water.

The soap of the month was Lavender Twine, which also happened to be the password. Cedric explained that's how they kept the password rotating, to theme it off the monthly soap.

Harry didn't care, how feminine the soap seemed, this was... bliss. No stupid romance, deadly spiders, paradoxes, and Tom Riddle were here to bother him. Harry relaxed and closed his eyes. Yes, this was perfect. He felt the water disturb when Cedric stepped in.

"Amazing, right?" the Hufflepuff asked. Harry smiled, and, eyes still closed, nodded. They sat there, in that large pool. Just quietly sitting, bubbles popping every moment or so. Otherwise, the air was still and he almost forgot the prefect was there with him.

Harry was feeling a bit antsy, though. So he fidgeted, and it caused his feet accidentally bump Cedric.

"Sorry 'bout that," Harry said reflexively.

"It's no problem." There was something strange in Cedric's voice.

Cedric coughed. "So uh, tell me about your adventure the other day. I heard weird things. Like a war between centaurs and giant spiders being fought, the Forest going up in flames..."

Harry laughed. "Well, it's close..." And he proceeded to tell repeat what he went through yesterday morning. As far as adventures go, this was mild, but Cedric was enthralled.

"You're amazing, Harry, you know that?"

When Harry looked at Cedric, he noticed the young Hufflepuff was staring at him. Cedric's hair was damp from the steam, his noticeably long lashes seemed heavy in the humidity. The realization that it was just two wizards sitting in a tub next to each together was not lost on Harry, and he had the thought that among the slight differences between this Cedric and Harry's Cedric from the future was the way they looked at him.

Harry decided that he would remain in denial until his thoughts were otherwise proved correct "Thanks, Ced," he said a little awkwardly, "You're pretty cool yourself. Thanks for inviting me in here."

The silence didn't go away, and Harry started to just focus on being warm in the bath and being thankful for the thick bubbles that covered the top of the water. He started to consider how he felt about Cedric. He meant what he said, Cedric was a great person. He was charming, charismatic, handsome, and had a group of friends who loved to be around him...

Cedric moved towards Harry slowly, the water rippling with the approach, water splashing against the sides of the pool. Deep down Harry started to predict where this was going, but his heart was beating fast and he wasn't sure at all if what was playing out in his head was something he even WANTED. But Harry was desperate for something good to happen to him and Cedric didn't disappoint. Cedric lifted out of the pool for a moment to lean his arms against the walls of the pool where Harry was sitting between, and Harry noted that in spite of being three years younger than him, he was slightly taller, slightly more built than Harry was. He dipped his head tentatively. Harry shut his eyes tightly in anticipation. Deciding to go for it, Cedric moved forward to kiss Harry.

Harry never thought he'd have liked kissing other boys, at all. But as soon as it started, it was as if a flash triggered in Harry's mind and Harry inhaled sharply. It was a slow, gentle kiss. Wet from the bath, but not sloppy like Cho – and wow, thinking of Cho while kissing a Cedric has got to go in the books as something weird – but as Harry started responding with less hesitance, the kiss turned into something more as Harry could feel Cedric gaining confidence to move his body closer. Out of his control, Harry started to get a little hard and he hoped that being underwater could hide it. But eventually Cedric brushed against it, and Harry breathed in a little sharply. Encouraged, the Hufflepuff placed his hand on Harry's leg, and Harry's arms wrapped around Cedric, lips only breaking contact to breathe. His hands were wrapped up in Cedric's very soft, lavender-scented hair, and Cedric pulled Harry onto his lap, the water around them swaying with every movement.

Harry was so distracted that he hadn't noticed the flaring of a dark, familiar magic. A lightning blue spell was shot in the water right behind Cedric. A warning. Harry opened his eyes, hoping, hoping that it wasn't who he thought it was.

The two stopped to see who was there, and just as Harry feared, Tom Riddle was indeed looking at them. Wand in hand, fully clothed. Why was he fully clothed in a bath? Harry was still a little high on hormones, so there was a part of him that started imagining pulling Riddle into the bath just to see how the normally stiff Slytherin would react. He imagined death would be imminent.

"Diggory, you are hereby revoked of your access of the Prefect's Bath until further notice," said Riddle, whose voice was harsh but otherwise calm.

"Riddle, come on. You've never had a problem b-"

"It's a problem now. Get. Out."

Cedric sighed, cocked his head to the door, and said, "Come on, Harry."

" _Harry_ stays," Riddle ordered.

Cedric and Riddle seemed to have a stare down as Harry shrank into the water. Cedric stood, stubbornly unfazed by the bareness of his body as he stepped out of the bath. Out of politeness, Harry focused on the pool, but he did notice that after Cedric got his robes on, there seemed to be a pause in foot movement, as if Cedric and Riddle were exchanging a silent conversation. But that pause was gone very quickly, and Cedric walked out. Then, it was just Harry and Riddle in the bathroom.

"I was unaware you were a sodomite," said Riddle with a sneer. "You dating Vance finally makes some sense. An act of denial, or an easy cover up story."

"For the record, this whole kissing blokes thing is new to me," Harry said, uncomfortable but no longer stinging from a mention of Winifred, just wanting Riddle to go away. He felt really exposed just sitting in the bath while Riddle looked down at him.

"Or maybe you'll shag anyone with two legs? How many partners have you had exactly?"

Harry just leveled a glare back and huffed. "We weren't shagging." Not yet anyway. "And that's private. Can I leave now?"

"... get out of the tub," Riddle finally said, irritated.

Harry made a motion to do that and maybe figure out where Cedric had gone but he stopped. "Um, do you mind?" Harry said. Riddle was just... looking at him.

"Mind what?" Riddle asked, clearly knowing exactly what Harry was trying to insinuate, but chose not to acknowledge. Harry rolled his eyes.

Awkwardly, Harry reached for the towel behind him. Staying submerged underwater, because being naked in front of young Lord Voldemort would immediately move to the top of the weirdest moments in Harry's life, Harry pulled the towel around him. He wrapped the towel around his waist as he stood, the bottom of the fabric getting heavy and wet, since it was sitting directly in pool water.

"You look ridiculous."

Harry ignored him and tried to step out as gracefully as possible, intending to dry the towel later.

"Where do you think you're going," Riddle asked when Harry finished getting dressed and attempted to leave.

"The Gryffindor common room," Harry said.

"You should be glad I'm not issuing a detention."

Harry groaned and left.

….

The next day, Harry was practically on air. After a particularly enjoyable graphic dream – where Cedric and Harry were able to continue uninterrupted in the bath, he felt like it wasn't that big of a deal if he started dating Cedric, and started viewing the people he saw from a totally new perspective, evaluating what he thought of their attractiveness. It was almost fun, particularly because he knew if the Dursley's had ever suspected Harry could be attracted to other blokes, they'd have certainly tossed him out on the street for being doubly freakish.

And really, maybe it was the right thing to do considering all his failed attempts at relationships with girls ('I don't think I count as a failed relationship,' says the Ginny voice in his mind; 'Technically, Harry doesn't know that for certain yet,' shoots back Hermione, referring to the potential love potion.)

Among his closest Gryffindor friends, he thought Poppy was cute and had a nice bum, but he'd only ever see her as the mother hen that he was now very very certain would become Madam Pomfrey. Mervin was like an extremely socially inept Ron. No attraction there. Ben wasn't quite back from the hospital wing yet, but Harry didn't think he would consider Ben particularly attractive. Neither was Barty, though Harry admitted there was a sort of appeal in the aged version of Barty. Michael was tall, dark, and a bit rugged, though probably more due to genetics than due to Quidditch practice from school; but Harry found Michael's attractiveness drew more from confidence than looks alone.

Quinsley waved at him from down the table at breakfast. She was cute in a little sister sort of way.

His eyes scanned the nearby Ravenclaw table and picked out some good looking students... he stopped playing the scanning game when his eyes met Winifred. Nope, she was still very attractive to him.

All in all, it seemed like Harry didn't strongly prefer guys or girls; he was able to discern objectively whether a person was attractive, but as far as how Harry was attracted to a particular person... well that, he didn't seem to have enough self-awareness to determine. This, he took to mean he wasn't a completely shallow person, which was a minor victory.

Quickly he looked around for Cedric, but the Hufflepuff prefect was no where to be found. Strange, but nothing to worry about.

Out of curiosity, he looked over to Riddle who was casually reading the Prophet, acting as if nothing had happened the night before. It reminded Harry that he needed to come up with a convincing special back story that was fool proof in case Riddle tried to interrogate him about his identity again. He had the feeling Riddle wouldn't, as he hadn't asked again since that first time, and knowing the Slytherin, wouldn't want to waste his time. Riddle would have determined this much amount of time to brew was enough for Harry to make something up anyway. Harry would still try – better safe than sorry.

To be honest, there were a lot of things that Harry needed to do now that he'd had that talk with Dippet, Dumbledore, and Slughorn. He had delayed a lot of planning he had to do, mostly because he thought he wasn't going to be in this decade for very long. But he shoved that aside, more interested, instead, on finding Cedric and finishing what they started last night.

….

By lunch, Harry still hadn't seen Cedric, and Harry started getting worried. Was Cedric avoiding him, or did something happen to him? Throughout the day, Harry was reminded of his fourth year, a graveyard, and a voice ordering his servant to "kill the spare."

He spent the entire period after classes trying to find Cedric, by just asking around and roaming the halls. He started getting a little desperate, there really wasn't a good reason why Riddle would do anything to Cedric, other than to just irritate Harry.

Here was Harry's first attempt at love after learning going home could be hopeless and he couldn't even find the guy. Eventually, Michael's sister bumped into Harry and said "Cedric's asking for you."

Elated, Harry followed the Hufflepuff until she stopped him by the stairs. "Err, stay right here, please. Don't want to reveal the location of our common room..."

A few minutes later, Cedric walked around the corner, not looking very healthy, but it seemed like it wasn't due to foul play.

"Hi Cedric, Good to see you, I was getting a little worried..."

Cedric blew his nose into his handkerchief. "Sorry, I seem to have caught a bug, and I need to get to the infirmary soon... Look, Harry... I..." Red-nosed and all, Cedric was still far more attractive than at least half the school population.

"Oh, wait, let's go somewhere a little more private," Harry murmured, mostly to himself. Standing in the corridor seemed very impersonal. He took Cedric's hand and walked them towards the nearest classroom Harry could find.

"I think yesterday was a mistake," Cedric blurted before they even got the chance to enter any room, and he seemed to wince as soon as his words had tumbled out.

Harry turned to look at Cedric, his mind's gears seemed to have stopped running. He didn't comprehend. "Is this about the bathroom privileges? I'm really sorry, I didn't -"

Cedric shook his head. "No, it's not about that. It's uh... I just don't think it'll work out... in the long term, if you understand." Harry dropped Cedric's hand.

Harry did not understand at all. Cedric seemed very long-term partner potential.

"Is it because I haven't been with a wizard before?" Because judging from the way Harry's body had reacted last night, it wasn't a relationship he was feeling socially pressured to enter.

"No, more like.. similar to how Vance, you know.."

"You're going to sleep with other people?"

"What? No! No of course not, I wouldn't do that to you... I just... I just don't think it'll work out, is all. I just... I'm thinking some time from now you might be with someone else, and maybe I will too. I still want to hang out, you know. You're a fun bloke, and you're always welcome in our study room..."

At that point, Harry about-faced and just marched away, face red from a mix of embarrassment and frustration. This was unbelievable. He felt so betrayed. At least with Winifred, he had some warning, but this... this he couldn't have anticipated. He felt empty. He felt toyed with. He was so sure that Cedric liked him. So what had changed since yesterday? Just a fever?

Behind him, he heard Cedric walking away.

…...

When Harry got back to his common room, he slammed the portrait behind him.

"You alright there, mate?" asked Barty.

Harry just huffed and walked over to his favorite couch and collapsed in it. He threw his arm over his eyes, to block out the light of the candles and fireplace, just taking in comfort by being around friends – friends who weren't just going to kiss him and leave him the next day. Maybe he should just stay in this room and never leave.

There was almost no reason to do anything anymore. With his last adventure nearly leading to his friend's death, Cedric denying him a chance at happiness, and an almost complete stop on his mission to return back to his former life, life was quickly losing any semblance of hope. (Hermione in his head, rolled her eyes, 'Stop being so melodramatic, Harry.' The voice of Ron just reminded him there was always food.)

He heard a shuffle approach him. He peeked and saw Quinsley's small frame above him. "Um, hey, Harry," she said softly, brown eyes filled with worry.

"Hey Quinsley, what's wrong."

She raised her eyebrows before giggling slightly. "I should be asking you that." She offered him a chocolate frog. "Chocolate – to make you feel better."

"Thanks," he said sincerely. "That's really kind of you."

Harry then had a strong feeling of deja vu. And considering his time travel, he was paying close attention to anything that seemed strange and familiar. He sat up to look at Quinsley intensely.

Something about her seemed incredibly familiar but he couldn't put his finger on it. He didn't know very many East Asians, but she didn't look anything like Cho – Cho had a fragile look about her in spite of being a Quidditch player. Quinsley looked slightly tanner, more European, and had a smaller frame than Cho – which may have been a perception thing since Cho was older whereas Quinsley was younger. She was also much more tom-boyish.

No, Harry was only thinking of Cho because he associated her closely with Cedric.

With all his focus on her, Quinsley's face was starting to get even redder, red enough that Harry noticed that it wasn't from the fireplace or the red tones in the room. She tried to laugh it off, but then she quickly fled upstairs to her dorm.

Harry was about to take a bite out of chocolate frog when he remembered another young girl who had that same bizarre behavior... Ginny. Quinsley reminded him of Ginny.

Bloody hell, Quinsley had a crush on him. And he had absolutely no intention of returning those feelings. Harry slammed his head back down on the couch, grabbed a couch cushion, and smashed it over his face.

"Ah look, mates, Harry's finally figured it out," teased Mervin. Bugger... if Weasley figured it out before him, Harry must have been very dense.

….

Author's Note:

And so ends Arc 1, where Harry's goals of finding true love and going home are unfortunately squashed. Tune in next time, as Harry starts acting less like a visitor and more like a permanent guest of the 1940s. Hope you liked it!


	7. Settling and Unsettling

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

Settling or Unsettling

…

Monday at breakfast, Harry was now distinctly aware that down the table sat a group of people near Quinsley not-so-subtly pointing at and whispering about him every few minutes. For the most part, Harry just saw them in his peripheral vision, but when he did turn his head over, they all looked away. To her credit, Quinsley wasn't taking part. But it didn't help that his friends also noticed and were trying their hardest trying not to laugh at the schoolyard crush that he'd been oblivious about for what must have been weeks. It was entirely too embarrassing.

The morning post came in eventually, interrupting the gossip, and giving Harry some peace. Harry didn't expect any post, so, like usual, he ignored the fast flurry of wings above him and instead continued to enjoy his toast, mushrooms, and eggs. It just so happened, however, that today an fluffy grey owl did decide to land beside him, holding out a letter expectantly, and twisting its head to look at something else.

Confused, Harry carefully untied the letter from the owl's tan leg. The bird hooted, its job done, and hopped not so gently over to the fully recovered Ben who was now, like Quinsley earlier, blushing and trying to ignore his friends. The owl nipped at the sliced sausage on Ben's plate, and Ben took a fork to very focusedly, slice some bacon for the bird.

His friends were somewhat curious. "That's Ben's owl," explained Barty, stating the obvious. Some silly stray thought that took the voice of Ginny groaned, "I hope this isn't another crush."

Tentatively, Harry started to open his letter when he heard an approach from above – another disruption landed on his table. It was also an owl, albeit much larger, darker, and meaner looking then Ben's. This owl, upon landing, had caused the nearby silverware to leap slightly from the surfaces they rested on. It also held out a letter for Harry and he noted the claws seemed to bear some intricate metal rings.

That was certainly a surprise. Harry took this second letter, and noted that it was a Gringott's seal. He was certainly popular today. The larger owl spread its wings and lifted away from the table, blowing away some of the button mushrooms off his plate and into his lap. Harry decided to read the letter from Ben's owl first.

 _Dear Mr. Harium Key,_

 _My name is Eliezer Solomon, head of the Solomon family. My son has informed me of your heroic acts in saving his life. As a man of honor, I am incapable of standing by and doing nothing when there is a debt owed unto you for risking your health in order to save my beloved progeny._

 _On behalf of the family, I would have offered you significant gold for your deed. But it makes me proud to know that Benjamin instead took it upon himself to offer his own trust fund in gratitude for your heroic act._

 _From what he has told me of you, I believe you have the type of character that would likely turn down this gold. Allow me to save you the trouble of protesting. To take it out of your hands, I have already requested the goblins to directly issue a transfer from the trust fund to yours. Please understand, this money is nothing compared to the value of my son's life to me, and the knowledge that he has a good friend by his side._

 _My wife and I hope to meet you some day. You are welcome to come by anytime._

 _To a long friendship -_

 _Yours truly,_

 _Eliezer D. Solomon_

"I am so sorry," said Ben, "It is so embarrassing." He started shoving mushrooms into his mouth to distract himself from the surrounding pressure.

"Ben – that's my line," said Harry, his hands still gripping the letter in disbelief. "I can't take this money from you – I saved you because you're my friend."

"Oh Harry. This is exactly why you deserve it!" said an exasperated Poppy. "I still don't understand why the world works this way, where good people turn down good things and bad people just take without question."

"Look, if you won't take it because I want you to, at least take it because of the life debt," said Ben.

"I already released you from the debt!"

"Then consider it a matter of honor. Please, just take it. It's really no bother."

Harry furrowed his brows. "Well... does that mean you gave money to Riddle too?" Not that Harry wanted Riddle to get any funds, but he was trying to prove a point.

There was a sigh to his left.

"Riddle went after you, not Ben," said Barty offhandedly.

"But. What does that even -" Harry started to ask, but Ben interrupted.

Ben continued, "The others described Saturday's events to me. From how I see it, I owe you, maybe not a life debt since you've released me, but I owe something. You know, you chased after me at risk to your self." Was this not how friends were supposed to act? Harry was so confused. He, Ron, and Hermione tend to sacrifice themselves for each other all the time.

"But..." Harry struggled. "I really don't feel right taking this, but your father took it out of my hands."

"Oh, don't worry about it, it wouldn't seem that way with how modestly Ben dresses, but he's actually somewhat wealthy," said Poppy. "Their family is filled with barristers, several generations deep, you know. They're behind Goldstein & Soloman."

"Oh. You're one of those old families?" Harry asked, not remembering hearing the name Solomon in the future.

"Yes and no," Ben said. "My family is proudly mixed-blood in heritage, even though the first wizard in our family goes way back. We have a mirrored muggle side of the business too." Vaguely, this reminded Harry of the time Winifred told him about her mum also being a solicitor, and he sighed internally.

"Also, were you aware they're the only family legal practice that isn't completely overrun with Slytherins?" said Michael boisterously, causing everyone around to laugh.

Harry imagined that's why he hadn't heard much of the law practice. Most of them must have been killed off some time between the Grindelwald and Voldemort wars. Moving on, he opened the Gringott's scroll.

 _18 October 1943_

 _Mr. Harium Key:_

 _Gringotts Bank received notice of a pending deposit made to your name, but our records indicate that you are not associated with any account. Before you may lay claim to the gold, you must come to our establishment to open an account as the funds are in holding. During this holding period, the transfer will be ineligible for interest gains._

 _In spite of the Key account holders being announced deceased several years ago, the funds available in your vault have not been distributed, due to lack of a will. If you wish to claim this vault, that option is available to you upon verification of your lineage._

 _On the tenth year past their recorded death date, the funds will be released to the ministry sans half the interest earned which will be forfeited to Gringotts Bank per the agreement of the Goblin-Wizard Act of 1612, Section XXIII, part c. Any claim to these vaults past this date must be appealed to the appropriate Ministry of Magic department and made public record._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Helmlok_

 _Chief of the Department of Account Services_

 _Gringotts Bank_

What luck that Dippet happened to give Harry an all-access pass to leave Hogwarts. Harry decided it would be useful to start opening an account. While he still felt uncomfortable with the idea of being rewarded for just valuing a friend's life, there was tickling relief with the windfall.

If he were to be stuck in this timeline, he needed to start seriously considering resources and future employment. He had no OWLs, but hopefully his NEWTs would be sufficient to prove competency for employment. Maybe he could just invest in products and companies that he knew were going to do well in the future.

He wasn't sure what to do with the Key inheritance. His surname was a cover, and it may seem strange to the goblins that he would not even attempt to claim it. It was possible he could try and luck out since most wizarding families were related, but he imagined that if that were true, someone would have tried to claim the Key Family Vault already.

And secondly, he had to wonder what would happen if he were to do this inheritance claiming and he was identified as a Potter instead. Now there was the opening to a line of questioning he wasn't comfortable with triggering.

He wondered if the Goblins would mind keeping his secrets before Harry remembered that they probably would... for a fee. Sighing, he stored both letters away, deciding that he needed to think about this some more.

…

In Potions later that week, after a particularly grueling lesson on brewing feasts, Slughorn asked him to stay after class.

"Yes, Professor?" Harry said, nearly coughing after he got a whiff of someone's potion – like inhaling burnt turkey essence.

"Are you still considering testing the effects of Amortentia on yourself?" asked Slughorn, organizing the finished assignments on his desk.

"I'm, er, not sure," said Harry. Part of him wanted to stay in denial. Would testing be an insult to Ginny's memory, an indication he didn't trust her? After so long, it just did not seem relevant anymore. "I will let you know if I change my mind?"

"Of course, of course." Slughorn was mumbling to himself, seeming to want to say something else, but it was dragging on a bit too long so Harry made a move to turn and leave.

Slughorn coughed and stopped him again. "Actually, there's something else I wanted to ask... I wanted you to join me Saturday for an evening tea... around 8pm?" The tone was hopeful.

"What for?" asked Harry warily, although from the gleam in Slughorn's eyes – similar to the gleam he remembered from when he met Slughorn for the first time half a century from now, he knew what this was going to be about.

"I would like to offer you an invitation to my pet project, the exclusive Slug Club," the professor said, propping himself up to his full size. "I meant to invite you much earlier, of course, but with your previous status having been 'Temporary' I was not so sure it was wise... From I have heard of you from the rest of the staff, and your... particular insights on... incoming climates, you would make a fine addition."

Joining Slug Club of this era only made Harry think of exposing himself further to brown-nosing Riddle, an act that made Harry cringe every time he witnessed it.

But not to be rude, especially for all the support that Slughorn had provided, Harry answered, "Of course, sir."

A small thought kept bothering at him, though. If Harry was staying in this era, given no choice, was he not obligated to get rid of early Voldemort? At this point, Harry was sure there was only one Horcrux, probably kept in the Slytherin chambers, and considering Riddle was already a murderer, he should feel no qualms whatsoever about this task. It would be so easy.

His life wasn't personally at risk until his actual date of birth, and yes, a lot of people would be gone in the butterfly effects, but it would simply make sense to eliminate Voldemort and save as much of the wizarding population as possible.

But he did feel qualms. Something about murder in cold blood, made him a bit fearful, because Voldemort here had the face of a 16-year-old boy, who while self-serving, manipulative, possible psychotic, definitely sociopathic... Harry was losing his train of thought. Did Voldemort deserve it? Yes. And it made destroying him so much easier because his face was so like a monster he was almost inhuman. But Tom Riddle of 1943's face... Did this Tom Riddle deserve it? Probably, if his destiny as dark lord was inevitable. Harry had an obligation, right? He couldn't let his parents die just to preserve as much of his timeline as possible.

Except... did this Tom Riddle who managed to save Harry's life deserve it? Harry shook away the thought. There had to be a solution. He knew he likely had a duty to rid the world of Voldemort, but something inside him was reluctant.

As he walked to lunch, he kept debating this over and over again, knowing this question wouldn't be solved today.

Perhaps, perhaps Tom Riddle killed Myrtle by accident, and probably only killed his muggle family this past summer out of a passionate rage. But Harry daydreamed that in some fantasy world, he would be able to help Riddle control his psychopathy. Having saved Harry for no apparent purpose was a step in the right direction.

…

When Battle Club rolled around at the end of the week, Harry was seriously considering spending his Fridays elsewhere. It was a month and a half and he still had not been chosen to participate in the games. There were certainly a lot of students, but by now Professor Merrythought was almost done cycling her roster through a second time (and in the case of her daughter, the fourth time). While Harry had enjoyed watching the games, the battles were making him antsy and watching was getting boring when it seemed like Merrythought had forgotten all about him.

As she was making her picks for the second round of the night, she was making choices that made the room somehow quieter than the usual respectful silence during the tagging process.

She was walking around the room slowly, her boots making heavy thumps against the ground as she made the rounds, tagging students all around, but instructing them not to attack as they'd all be one team, changing the normal rules of the club. When she seemed done, there were about 15 students who stood confused on the platform. With some dramatic flair, she paused, hands steeple-d before her lips.

The platform was big, but Harry doubted a 15 against 15 would allow for much room for maneuvering. Maybe a crowded space was part of the goal. Maybe she was going to put in "innocents". Either way, there was a high probability Harry could be picked to participate soon.

Almost as if reading his mind, Merrythought announced her plans, but not quite the plans he had considered:

"Mr. Riddle. Mr. Key. Please come to the platform. Fifteen against two. Start on the whistle."

She didn't have to speak very loudly for her voice to carry through the room. There were some excited whispers and gasps all around.

"She's given Riddle 5 against 1 a few years ago but now she just limits the spells he uses. This is new," he overhead someone explaining.

Some of the fifteen included some top players. And except for some of his Defense classmates, most would be clueless as to his proficiency with basic shields and attacks. While Harry's original plan was to not put on his best O-level skill, mostly to prevent Riddle from knowing too much in case killing him became part of the plan, there were some condescending sneers from other houses and years who were predicting he'd just get in Riddle's way. So Harry decided not to just play by A-levels either.

He had already been a decent defense student, but with the extra reading he'd done while killing time in the library, with time spent only around Hermione for months in the first half of seventh year, without adventures and lazying time with Ron getting in the way, he was probably even better than when facing down Voldemort after sixth year. He knew he couldn't defeat duelists like Flitwick and Moody, but he could hold his own in desperate situations.

After Riddle and Harry stepped onto the platform, there was a rather uncomfortable moment just standing there as they waited for Merrythought to blow the whistle. Harry could see a high percentage of players in front of him eyeing him as if to take him down first ('and quickly', he saw someone mouth).

It irritated him a bit. He liked the anonymity of this era but was starting to resent the dismissive lack of regard by these people. Harry considered himself an okay sort of bloke but no likes being put down, especially dismissed next to the smarmy Riddle.

He did not being eyed like prey – like he had been as a child growing up with Dudley or when surrounded by older dark wizards.

The stall seemed to last forever. But Harry was alert and waiting for it, especially since he had a feeling almost all wands would be trained on him. He needed every advantage he could get, so he wordlessly and wandless willed himself lighter – it wasn't the most powerful application of the charm but it was better than nothing.

At the first millisecond of the whistle, Harry immediately jabbed a leaping charm at his feet and flew in the air, the minor effect of his weak featherlight charm and the sheer force of power the threw into the charm forced him to fly pretty high. While he looked down, he saw all fifteen spells fizzle harmless into a muddled rainbow against the platform barrier. Riddle gracefully dodged the strays and was already starting on taking down the confused fifteen that scattered when they realized Harry wasn't where they had expected. In the precious few seconds he had before gravity would start working against him, he pointed down and cast wide-spread "Molta Minuet Incend!" loudly and conspiciously. Like he intended, the students below looked up at the sound of his voice, only to shriek when they saw little balls of fire hurling down towards them.

The spell author called it "raining fire." Rather apocalyptic. And overall _entirely_ harmless. Its only goal was a lightshow – to scare, barely sting the targets, and set up for a second spell.

At the sight of what looked to be impending doom, many of the students cast shields and counters towards the danger coming from up top. Some even directly cast hexes upwards, to be the one to get credit for taking down Harry.

This left a wide opening for Riddle to swoop in and bind the most aggressive students while Harry conjured a heavy net to incapacitate the rest who were mostly defending themselves against spells and not physical objects, which was exactly the point.

All in all, the battle was over by the time Harry floated gently back down to the ground – a recast featherlight charm prevented unnecessary accidents but Harry swore someone must have cast a cushioning charm before his feet. A full fifteen seconds since the start of the whistle. It was a slaughter. He had to squelch the part of him that felt pleased. It felt good. Really good. He couldn't remember the last time a fight was that easy.

He didn't mean to help wipe them out so quickly, but really – in spite of its dramatics, being a gang of fifteen actually made these students weaker.

Without a clear leader, each assumed someone else would handle their problems, preventing many from acting intelligently. The spacing also left little for maneuvering on the stage. Harry and Riddle had a natural advantage with this in mind but due to the dramatic flair of 2 v. 15, the victory looked far more impressive than it actually was.

Power only mattered if you were caught in a deadlock spell, say... Priori Incantem bonds or breaking out of Imperios. Ultimately, duels were purely speed and deception.

This battle was almost boring, a sure sign of students who felt mostly untouched by the current war and knew little tragedy in their families.

Looking around, people were amazed, and murmuring amongst themselves as Merrythought checked on the students. The pressure made Harry feel cold on the inside, like he accidentally began a shifting reality that he had no idea how to predict the outcome of. His place here was changing, and it made him nervous. It made him regret participating in this Club, but he hid his turmoil under a blank expression.

Standing up from her platform-side seat, Merrythought nodded. "A fine job." She checked the time, a bit disappointed. "I really did think that'd last a lot longer. Perhaps a battle between Mr. Riddle and Mr. Key?"

There were some supportive claps. Harry started wondering if he could 'accidentally' kill Riddle and get away with it here.

It was Riddle who delayed the showdown, though. "Professor? I actually have to go meet up with Headmaster Dippet now."

"Oh, yes, go along. Harry, you can head back to your seat."

….

Harry decided not to go to Gringotts that weekend, mostly because it was a Hogsmeade Weekend and Poppy wanted them all to go to the newly opened Madame Puddifoots. Harry felt it inappropriate to jump straight into claiming gold when he could be spending time with friends instead.

Unfortunately there was one task he couldn't just push aside: Slughorn's dinner.

Turns out, the blonde that Harry thought was Malfoy was actually Avery – or, to be precise, Cain Avery, who was far more attractive up close. Harry vaguely remembered an Avery from one of the memories Dumbledore had shown him but Harry hadn't been paying much attention to any of Riddle's gang. His hair was neatly parted at the side, his nose was slightly upturned, and he had, overall, sharp features – characteristic of a pureblood with "good breeding." The only physical flaw it seemed was that his neutral face tended to be deformed into a sneer, upper lip exposing slightly crooked teeth. "I actually assumed you were a Malfoy," Harry said, partially conversationally partially trying to goad him into giving him more information.

Avery looked miffed. "I'm not. My mother is an Aelstrom." At Harry's blank look, Avery elaborated – "Forgot you lived under a rock before coming here – she's a witch from a very good family in Sweden." Here, Harry took "good" meaning pureblood. And at first he wasn't really sure why he mentioned his mother was from Sweden, but then it occurred to Harry that Avery had been trying to explain that his mother was very blonde.

There were a lot of weird logical leaps he had to make here. Talking to Slytherins was hard.

In contrast, the other boys were a bit more average looking.

Lestrange was surly – with prominent eyes, a wide jaw that had a shadow of a shaved growing beard, and dark brown almost black hair.

Nott had temple length dark hair to go with his thick dark brows like his future grandson (or great nephew – like with Cedric, Harry could never be sure about which of the people he knew in the future were direct or indirect descendants of his current day classmates), but had somewhat softer facial features, a long neck, and dark rings under his eyes, as if perpetually tired. Unlike Lestrange who was built gruff, Nott was thinner and more knobbly.

Rosier was a bit smaller than the rest of his group, but that didn't make him particularly runt-like. Oddly enough, Harry would almost say he looked fairly friendly, but it would probably be because the boy didn't frown as severely as the others in the group. He wore a slightly open expression and had reddish-brown slightly ruffled hair. The boy seemed to listen in rapt attention any time Riddle spoke.

Of the Slytherins who would one day make up Riddle's Death Eaters, Harry only knew the quiet Nott from classes since he was a seventh year like Harry. This is how he knew Nott always looked tired, and not just today.

Rosier was someone Harry couldn't place, but he definitely recognized the face from somewhere. The only reason why Harry knew he had to have met Rosier at some point was that Rosier seemed to look cross any time he met Harry's gaze. Like Harry personally offended him.

On the other side of the table sat some younger students Harry didn't know very well, but apparently there was a first year that was the daughter of the sitting Editor of the Daily Prophet.

Riddle of course sat at the head of the table, facing the entrance, stealing the power seat from even Slughorn who sat closer to the middle to be more deep in the conversations. So far during the tea, Riddle was a bit pre-occupied with chatting with his house-mates.

Harry had been surprised that none of his Gryffindor friends were in the Slug Club, but apparently it wasn't uncommon for people to leave the club. Johnson was a strong Quidditch family but apparently not good enough for Slughorn for an invite. Poppy was initially invited early first year, she left by the first Christmas party due to pressure from her mother – Slughorn had used first-year Poppy as an opening to talk more with Merrythought. And Ben left because it just wasn't enjoyable for him. Although he would have liked to similarly not attend like his friends, Harry had a bit of an obligation to at least amuse Slughorn with his presence.

"Harry, my boy!" Slughorn said conversation mid-evening, "I heard you made a very impressive showing at the Battle Club just yesterday."

Well that's embarrassing. This wasn't modesty – he felt all this praise was undeserved – truthfully, Merrythought's "challenge" was just badly designed... but he wasn't going to go around insulting a good professor, let alone a professor who was his friend's mother, so he kept his mouth shut. Harry rubbed the back of his neck. "Actually I sort of think there shouldn't be much of a big deal. All I did was think quickly and surprise them."

"Nonsense. How modest of you. What do you think, Tom?"

Riddle looked indifferently towards Harry before glancing back at the professor before given a slow "pleasant" smile. "Oh, Harry," – still, why with the first name – "I've been meaning to ask, have you gotten your inheritance yet? The Keys.

Harry felt rather than saw Slughorn squirm uncomfortably. Unfortunately, Riddle caught it. The Slytherin's eyes had flickered quickly to the professor before returning to rest on Harry, the slow devious smile growing on his face. The bastard probably saw the Gringott's owl earlier. Riddle already knew Harry was not a Key – but now thought Harry's real surname was Dagworth-Granger. He was just rubbing it in.

"I... haven't asked," Harry answered slowly, not breaking eye contact.

"I can't imagine they locked it away yet – you should inquire. You are entitled to it as sole heir, aren't you?" And then Riddle swiftly changed topics by addressing the upcoming Wizengamot agenda.

Harry was starting to see the bleakness of the day-to-day of his new semi-permanent life, sprinkled with the danger of a scheming future Dark Lord.

…

Authors Note: I have no excuse. (Well, I mean I can list lots of excuses, but it doesn't really matter to you as readers.) So all I can say is sorry and hope to do better in the future. I've got the next chapter finished – just needs some fine tuning. And the chapter after that is also almost done.


	8. Negotiations

Author's Note / Update: It was brought to my attention that my calculation of inflation could have been incorrect so I ran through several calculators and realized I accidentally made Harry a millionaire by today's standards which I did not intend, so I updated the chapter to reflect those changes. See post-chapter author's note for a final breakdown of how much Harry should have, life style wise.

Chapter Eight

 **Negotiations**

That next weekend, Harry headed out to Gringotts. Michael's birthday was coming up in a week and whether Harry was ordering in person or via post relied on him having the funds to do so. He had put aside figuring testing himself for any toxins for now, as it really did not matter. He loved Ginny, at the least like a sister, so the least he could do was give her the benefit of the doubt. Not like he could see her again to be upset with. And he was sure Ron would not have appreciate it. Harry still wasn't sure what Hermione's motivations were but unless he understood it better, Harry needed to let go and truly start belonging to this period. After so many weeks, it was starting to become apparent this was going to be his new life and not just a temporary displacement. A new normal. And what better way to do that then to financially anchor himself and sign paperwork?

Upon arrival, he stepped up to a teller. It was far less busy in town than it was during the summer so the line was almost non existent.

"Hello, my name is Harium Key, and I am here to open up a new account." He pulled out the letter. The goblin reached out a pointed hand before inspecting it over his narrow glasses.

Harry was not really planning on making any claims on the Key vault. He double checked and as far as he could tell the Potters had no legitimate claim to the money. There were living, closer-related distance relatives so a claim could easily backfire and while he was in public he wouldn't breathe a word of it.

"Follow me," the goblin said before sneering – whisker-like mustache hairs lifting while doing so – and handing the letter back. The goblin waddled down and met with Harry on the other side before walking Harry to one of the sets of stairs near the side of the bank that led down a hallway he hadn't noticed in the past. On the marble walls was shiny lettering the read DEPARTMENT OF ACCOUNT SERVICES. The goblin stood to the side and pointed down the hall. "That way," and let Harry go on before the the goblin returned up the stairs. Once Harry made it down the carpeted path, Harry looked up at a brightly lit reception desk. It was another lobby. With even more sets of doors curving back along the sides of the reception desk. Two goblins sat at the front, one was busy handling incoming notes from tubes while the other was looking at Harry while pulling in the index finger in a "come here" motion. If stereotypes were right, like most secretaries this goblin should be female but Harry honestly could not tell the difference. This goblin had white hair to the chin but was equally as wrinkly and had a suit like the others.

When Harry approached, the goblin asked in a croaking voice, "Who are you here to see?"

Harry glanced at the letter in his hands. "Helmlok sent me a letter."

"The letter," said the goblin, gesturing for it. "You will not be seeing Chief Helmlok. He is far too busy to handle... individual accounts like yours."

"Right, sorry."

This goblin grabbed the letter and then flipped through a large notebook, probably full of schedules. "Rabclaw is free. He will see you momentarily." The goblin secretary rolled up a parchment and sent it through a shoot before promptly ignoring Harry.

Harry took the letter and awkwardly turned around to find a seat. But the moment he sat, a young-ish looking goblin came to get him. He followed silently, his footsteps echoing faintly in the long halfway, and finally he was led to an office where the door read:

RABCLAW

ASSOCIATE ACCOUNT MANAGER

"Name?"

"Harium Key," Harry answered awkwardly – this was getting repetitive. The goblin seemed to sense something was amiss and narrowed its eyes, before opening a drawer and flipping through some folders.

"Understand that Gringotts does not care what names you wizards use. If you wish to have a public name listed on your accounts for... ministry purposes, you may. But due to the way our... system maintains its records, you must provide your true name else you may face some..." Here the goblin bared its teeth, "... consequences." Harry winced mentally while someone maintaining a straight face externally. The goblin hinted further: "We do not take kindly to _thieves_ in our bank."

Harry realized the goblin thought he was here to steal funds.

"I'm not here to request any accounts from the Key family vault. Just open a new one."

"Really," the goblin said as more of a statement. His skepticism rolled off him in waves. He tapped a pointed nail against the desk while staring Harry down over the edge of the desk.

Something about the white marble walls of the office around Harry made him feel small. The furniture in this room was sparse. Harry was thinking as fast as he could but it was hard to make a good decision when he was not pumped full of adrenaline or planned this better. Harry felt like an idiot for just hoping he would not have been asked.

Harry thought back on the letter and everything he remembered about goblin history and his interactions, and finally it occurred to Harry – the Goblins probably did not care at all. So long as they made money on their transactions, they had no obligations to spill his secrets to the ministry or anyone else. The only question was whether the goblins preferred if the money was claimed or not. And if the money was returned back to government accounts, it'd probably be earning a government-negotiated interest rate than if it was through a personal account.

If he remembered his conversation with Bill last year correctly, Goblins were not fond of the idea of inheritance to begin with. They saw it as gold that was unearned because all gold belonged to the goblin race anyway, or so it was believed. So Harry had come with a plan – an albeit weak one, knowing that goblins do not think of possession the same way as wizards. Fees would need to be paid.

Harry bent forward, a hand rubbing his neck. "Harium Key is my alias.. as you already figured out. My name is actually Harry Potter. I'm not very sure if I can claim the Key vault, I would love to if I have a right to it, but I already know there are closer blood ties elsewhere. I traced through my family tree and I found one family member as a distant relation but.. most people in the Wizarding world are distantly related."

"That they are," the Goblin said. The distain for wizarding inbreeding was left unsaid but evident nonetheless.

Then Harry continued, taking the risk and choosing his words carefully. "So, I would like to propose an arrangement... If I could claim the accounts, I would be willing to relinquish – to the Bank – the rights to all the interest earned on the account between the last vault possessor's death date up to the ten year anniversary, so long as I become sole possessor of the account from this point forward." It wasn't for greed. Harry realized the money was better off in his possession than in some pureblood supremist who realized it was still available.

Rabclaw bared his teeth but otherwise didn't say anything. Then the goblin opened a different drawer and pulled out two parchments and a quill and started filling them out. Harry was not very sure of what was happening. After a silent four minutes – Harry was watching the clock on the wall – the Goblin handed Harry the roll he was writing on. "Sign and date when you are done."

And so Harry read it. In the meanwhile, the goblin seemed to be working on some paperwork so Harry took his time. They seemed fairly standard new account forms. So far not indicating anything about the Keys themselves. The second was equally long but different in that it was written from an internal perspective. Mostly, it held Harry's true name, and an identifier to link the first contract and the second together.

At the bottom of both, he signed. He noticed a round outline near the signature line. When he looked up, the Goblin who had been watching him the entire time – probably to ensure he did not add new clauses to the contract – said, "Place your finger there. It is to bind you and your future beneficiaries."

Harry was wary, but what could he do. It was probably some sort of goblin spell.

He placed his fingers and felt a sharp prick. Yes, he expected that. When he flinched, Rabclaw grinned. Damned goblin probably enjoyed that. He looked under and he sat a bit of blood left on the parchment. He did the same to the other, and in spite of being wounded already and easily able to leave some blood in the second contract's field, he felt another sharp prick.

"Was that necessary?" Harry asked, annoyed.

"No," the goblin said somewhat amused. "But the blood was. It will be how we can ensure your claimants have legitimate claim. It will also help if we need to remake your key should you be so incompetent as to lose it."

The goblin took the parchments and sent it through the bank's internal mail chute.

Seconds later, a capsule with a vault key arrived.

Harry inspected it, thinking he was going to be excused soon.

"Wait one moment," Rabclaw said as if reading his mind. "I submitted the terms of your arrangement on the Key family vault to Chief Helmlok."

Harry raised his eyebrows but did not respond. He must have done that while Harry was busy with the forms. So Harry waited, looking around at the room some more.

Finally, a letter arrived.

"He would like to speak."

"I will be meeting Chief Helmlok?"

Rabclaw sneered. "No, he does not meet with wizarding children." Actually Harry was a legal adult wizard, but he was not going to fight over every small thing. "You will be meeting with the existing account manager, Glargo."

Rabclaw walked Harry to a room deeper down the hall.

When Harry sat down in the larger office and the door shut behind him, Glargo got started right away. "Would I be correct that you are agreeing to pay with the ten year interest earnings on the Key account if you could get claim over any closer relations?"

"Yes," Harry said, a part of him getting a bit elated. Was it working?

"Gringotts sees your terms and would like to counter. You may lay claim on all non-goblin-made material possessions but you must relinquish half of the liquid assets of the account."

Harry sat back. To be honest, it was more than he was expecting. He actually had no idea what was inside the accounts, so half could be small. He remembered Dippet said this family had been fairly old and could operate fairly well with pureblood elitist circles but most of the accounts could have been cleaned out and Harry would be arguing over knuts. But really, Harry had nothing. He always had nothing – he grew up with less than nothing at the Dursleys. It was a bit selfish and greedy to fight over every single knut. He was already doing good by keeping the money from future dark wizards.

He was Harry Potter. Harry Potter gives to those in need. Harry Potter sacrifices. Harry Potter wants to be normal. Harry Potter does not take.

But just for once, he realized, there was nothing wrong with indulging. There was nothing wrong with listening to his less than virtuous desires. That did not make him a bad person. It made him.. normal. Harry could do normal. And based on what he knew of normal, half was such a low-ball offer.

"My terms were already favorable for both sides. But I can agree to forfeiting the interest, plus five percent of the vault, and the guarantee that these terms will be kept within the bank. Also, as far as anyone knows I am the rightful Key Heir."

The goblin was tapping into something on his desk that Harry could not see, but he assumed Glargo was running some calculations. "Your terms, but twenty five percent," the goblin countered.

"The interest, five percent, the guarantee," Harry stated again listing them off his finger – he was missing something, something important, "And Gringotts can have all the goblin-made objects – not including the currency – in the vaults."

Glargo seemed to find this more favorable. "And you pay the fees associated with drawing up the paperwork."

Harry thought about it. That was much more than he anticipated. "Deal."

Glargo wrote something on the piece of paper, sent it along. After about ten minutes, during which Glargo started working on something and Harry grabbed a pamphlet on the desk detailing the bank's account tiers – pretty interesting actually, there was several services provided to those with larger amounts held in their combined accounts – two parchments came down and Glargo handed Harry the contracts without looking up.

Like with the new account contracts, there were two forms, one for the bank and the other for ministry records.

The details of their agreement were spelled out, but otherwise nothing seemed amiss. Harry signed using the quill on the desk – more pinpricks – and then handed it back to Glargo.

"Now, who would you like to handle your accounts? I am currently manage the accounts, but Rabclaw also has a right to the new one you opened."

Harry blanked out for a second. What was the benefit of each option? "How easy would it be to change?"

"There would be reasonable fees to handle the paperwork."

Harry paused, and glanced at the placard on Glargo's desk. Senior Account Manager. Wasn't Rabclaw just an associate?

Glargo caught where his eyes drifted. Harry then made his decision, starting to understand how this bank worked. "I suppose it would be unusual to have anything else but the usual Key family's account manager running my accounts."

"That it would."

"I would like you to handle all of my new accounts."

Glargo said nothing and wrote more on the parchment.

Moments later, Rabclaw entered the room. "The documents."

"Thank you."

Rabclaw barely spared Harry a glance. Harry thought the junior goblin might have taken it personally – he was never sure if he was offending a goblin or not, but it was business as usual. Harry gained more status keeping a more senior account manager.

Glargo took out a large filing box from a cabinet beside him and put the new folder inside. Then flipping through the documents, he started making notes on a parchment.

"Here is the statement of your accounts."

Harry read it:

 **ACCOUNT STATEMENT, ISSUED OCTOBER 30, 1943 at about 11:50:00 London Wizarding Time**

PERSONAL ACCOUNT OF HARRIUM KEY / VAULT 4831

97 galleons

KEY FAMILY ACCOUNT, LONDON BRANCH / VAULT 539

4 galleons, 14 sickles, 17 knuts

KEY FAMILY ACCOUNT, NORWEGIAN BRANCH / VAULT 822

183 galleons, 432 sickles, 144 knuts

REAL ESTATE ASSETS:

3030 Occamy St, Oslo, Norway

The first thing Harry had noticed was the statement date. It was close to Halloween. His stomach fell. Time to lock himself in his dorm.

Then he read the rest of the statement and had to pause. By itself the numbers were fairly low. His old vault back in his timeline had contained stacks of galleons. He understood the general idea of inflation but had no idea what this meant for him.

"What is the exchange from galleon to pound?"

Glargo narrowed his eyes and then checked something on the surface of his desk that Harry could not see. "Currently it is 25.43 pounds to a galleon."

Harry frowned in thought as he did the mental calculation. 25 pounds to a galleon sounded about right – that was similar to what he was familiar with. He wasn't great at maths but he wasn't too awful back in primary. He racked his head to remember the prices of anything he bought recently.

He used to be able to buy a butterbeer for 2 sickles in the 90s and now he could get one for 4 knuts...

Glargo was tapping his nail impatiently.

Currency was about a tenth of what he was used to, so that meant the 97 galleons that Ben had was about 1000 galleons in the 1990s.

Then he breathed out in amazement. That much gold was amazing, and Ben gave that to him from his personal trust. On the other hand, the Keys – for an old family – did not seem to have much as they should. They must have spent most of it before their death. Hopefully there were some valuable books in there and other useful wizarding heirlooms.

Based on the amount in his funds, Harry could live comfortably as long as he supplemented it with a job, even a less lucrative one.

He had only seen a couple of Gringotts banking statements before, but Harry always found it interesting that the currency didn't round up to the nearest coin like it did with muggle currency. 4323 sickles was about 254 galleons but it was listed as sickles... It was likely due to the coins themselves being physical and not theoretical like with muggles.

"I'm surprised the Keys left money in London at all." But they likely wanted to leave some in case they needed to come back in a hurry. "... can the Norwegian funds be returned back to the London vault so we have one central account?"

"Yes."

"Don't liquidate the personal account to the London branch account," Harry said, on the off chance the goblins would try to take advantage of the fact the Key family accounts wouldn't be earning interest. Couldn't trust goblins not to want to take advantage of the terms.

Harry turned the parchment over but saw it was blank.

"No investments?"

"The last Key patriarch was not interested in investing."

"And... is the home still in tact?"

"It was decimated but the ruins have not been dealt with. Still value in the land, it is located close to a good shopping district."

"And the material possessions in the Norway account?"

"All of those had been transferred to Norway but we can have that delivered here."

"Yes, please. I'll come back next weekend to take inventory."

"Would you like to lay claim on some Potter funds as well?" the goblin asked with a smirk.

"Oh, uh, no thank you."

"I will make a note to have that appointment booked for perusing your vault. We will owl for a specific time when I am not busy."

"That's fine," Harry said, nodding. "I'd like to withdraw some funds?"

…

When Harry returned to Hogwarts, he felt.. different. It wasn't just the new possessions – he picked up better robes, school supplies, and the like. It was the knowledge that every single galleon, sickle, and knut in his possession was well and truly his.

He earned that. It was not inherited (in the traditional sense), it was not given due to some bizarre gifts for saving the wizarding world when he was a child. For the first time, Harry felt like a normal adult.

He earned the money from Benjamin just by being very Gryffindor and the rest due to negotiations. It felt amazing and his sad bleak feeling from earlier was starting to diminish.

As he was going back to his dorms, he passed by Avery who seemed to have come from the broom closet around the corner. "Key. What do you have to be happy about?.. And did you update your wardrobe?"

"Claimed my inheritance," Harry said, not sure why he was even telling the boy.

Avery did not answer, just looked taken aback and swiftly headed to the direction of the Slytherin dungeons.

…

On Halloween, Harry didn't talk much to anyone. He wanted to keep his head down as much as possible. He headed to the library after breakfast to grab a book to later read under the covers of his bed and claim he wasn't feeling well. Harry decided lately that the best way to avoid trouble was to avoid being in public, and that included the library. But he had to do it today. He'd have done this last night to avoid the risk of a Halloween adventure, but after returning from Gringotts yesterday afternoon, his friends dragged him into a long debate about the benefits of marrying the singer Minuette Wagtail vs actress Selene Mallard (neither of which he knew, but he managed to make something up on the fly based on which one Ben vs Mervin preferred – "Selene has the face of an angel but Wagtail has that bum...") followed by a late night trip to get ice cream from the kitchens.

So he grabbed a book on Dueling strategies in war by Sun Nian Zhou whose author's bio said he was a descendent of Sun Tzu. As he was on his way to the librarian's desk, he passed by news archive section and realized he never bothered looking up if, say, there were any Potters living currently. He glanced around and saw barely a soul in the library. People were likely partying early. Harry grabbed a couple of the most recent papers and started skimming for any reference. Potter, Potter, Potter, he muttered to himself mentally as he scanned. He paused at a few other surnames he recognized, including a quick notice that Newt Scamander was doing book signings next week that Harry made a note of, but otherwise not the one was after. After a few pages of this, he started to think he'd be better off using some sort of searching charm. That would involve hunting down another book.. or perhaps the librarian would know!

Harry looked up from the table to search out the librarian and met the dark eyes of Tom Riddle, sitting directly across from him. Quite miraculous, Harry barely reacted except for a slight flaring of his nose and his heart skipping a beat in surprise. Normally Harry would have noticed but he must have been so excited about learning anything about his family that he turned off his others senses.

"Hello, Harry. New clothes?"

"Riddle."

"What are you looking for there?"

Harry shuffled the papers until they arranged themselves neatly. "Just reading the news. I've been told more than once that it's like I live under a rock, so I wanted to do some research." Riddle hummed in skepticism after Harry's breathless excuse but otherwise said nothing, probably locking away the information for another day. Harry stood from the table to return the papers to the archive and felt Riddle following him.

He stopped and turned to look behind him, noting the library was still very empty save for the two of them. "Is there something you need, Riddle?"

"Yes, well... I was wondering if you would be interested in joining my study group?" Riddle asked.

Harry looked at him, stone-faced. "Why would you offer that?"

"My interests are my own."

"And why would I say yes?"

"I surround myself with the most well connected of wizarding society. Join me and you can be placed in lucrative positions in wizarding society." Harry noted that although posed as a group, Riddle said to "join me" rather than "join us."

"Isn't there Slug Club for that?" Harry asked.

"Slug Club is for Slughorn,"Riddle said, somehow managing to hold a straight face and not look annoyed. "Additionally, we delve into more knowledge based pursuits. There is a vast library around us and yet not a tenth of it is relevant to our studies here. You spend enough time here that I believe this would appeal to you?"

"Why don't I just join a Ravenclaw study group?"

Riddle rapped his nails against the desk once and leaned forward, clearly peeved. "Would you stop being so difficult?"

Harry leaned back and crossed his arms. "I'm not convinced."

"Ravenclaws are a bunch of competitive, grade grubbing bookworms who end up in academia, medicine, or law. Those who are interested in learning Other magic learn it and do nothing with except learn it for enjoyment. My group on the other hand are more interested in wielding what we learn. Application."

And unlike the Ravenclaws, Riddle wants to use that application and knowledge for power. For control over others. Harry would quickly point that out, but actually pissing off Riddle was not something Harry was interested in. Hermione would point out that one of the list of things on Harry's goal list now that he was stuck in this time was to redeem Riddle. Can't do that by burning bridges.

Still, can't make it easy.

It does however highlight what exactly drew Riddle to him. Harry was able to take what he was taught and use it beyond the classroom, which was done partly because he started learning to enjoy it during his seventh year with Hermione and partly out of self defense – having a dark lord near him made Harry especially jumpy.

Whatever the motivation Harry had for learning, Riddle wanted that type of person in the army he was building.

"Still not interested," Harry replied.

Harry walked to the librarian to check out his book, and Riddle continued to follow him out.

After some silence, Riddle said. "At least come to one meeting. You can't possibly think going to one could possibly be that much of a waste of time."

Harry looked thoughtful for a moment before turning the corner to take the stairs to the Gryffindor dorms. "Not interested," he shouted back.

…

Harry slipped back into the Gryffindor dorms, feeling thrilled that he still managed to evade Riddle. His smile was still somewhat on his expression when his friends saw him.

"What happened to you?" Barty asked.

"Nothing in particular. I'm just going to turn in now."

"It's eleven in the morning on a Sunday. Of Halloween. You can't be serious," Mervin whined.

"Deadly."

"What a bore."

"GET HIM."

Harry turned – "Wha –"

Suddenly his friends tackled him to the ground, disarmed him – he heard Poppy shouting "are you boys wizards or not – should have just used Expelliarmus instead of acting so brutish" – and started dragging him out. "Come on, Harry, there's The Faire!"

"The fair?"

"Oh, we forgot you're not from here."

"Hogwarts has a fair on Halloween. Shopkeeps from different towns come to show their wares."

"Aptly named, The Halloween Faire."

"Well I can just visit those shopkeeps then."

"But that's not the point. They'll be here – at Hogwarts!"

"There's going to be food stalls everywhere, mate!"

Harry was tempted. This would have been a new experience. But thought of better of it. " I should still say inside. I can just watch from my window. I'm not feeling too great"

"Come on Harry, it's our last year and it's going to be the only time you'll experience it!"

…

Somehow they managed to convince him after enough prodding. When they stepped on the castle grounds, Harry was actually somewhat amazed. There were various shop keepers everywhere, including ones from parts of Europe Harry hadn't thought of traveling to see, or known existed.

But while Harry was amazed, his friends seemed a bit down.

"Not so great of a turn out, is it?" said Barty.

"It's probably that war with Lord Grindelwald. Didn't think it was brought so close to London."

"Boys – "

"Oh, right. Sorry Harry, forgot about.. you know."

"It's okay."

"Grindelwald is doing a lot of damage on the mainland and Eastern Europe. Just because he isn't here, doesn't mean he won't be soon," Poppy said thoughtfully.

"Come on guys, let's not think about sad things – it's Halloween!"

Harry walked around, perusing some of the enchanted wares. It was all pretty interesting. There was a clockmaker who he thought the Weasley's might have gotten their heirloom clock from at some point.

He hadn't expected someone to shout at him.

"Boy! With the black hair."

Harry turned, and met the piercing gaze of what seemed to be the now forty year old wandmaker Ollivander. Harry tried not to look visibly nervous.

"I thought so. I don't recognize you. I suppose I didn't sell you a wand, did I?"

Harry wisely chose not to respond, and glanced around to get a friend to rescue him from what could be a dangerous situation.

"I'm sorry sir, I should probably -"

"Nonsense, nonsense... let me see your wand. I can do an inspection... "

"It's really okay. Look it's nice meeting you -" and Harry practically fled. He speed-walked behind a booth selling Healing Apples. Close call. Harry's heart was pumping a bit from the panic. He probably looked insane to some omniscient being – he was hiding from an innocent wandmaker. Ollivander always did unnerve him.

"Harry, are you alright?" he was looking down, so he just saw boots. Poppy kneeled down and rubbed his shoulders. He saw a few other pairs of boots approach.

"Wow, you look a bit pale. Maybe we should have let you stay inside today," Michael said.

"I can take Harry back to his tower. I was just about to leave anyway." Harry's head snapped up. Out of the boiling pan and into the fryer. Riddle. Damn his luck.

"I can take myself."

"Nonsense, Harry. Someone should watch over you."

Harry wanted to protest more, but he figured he couldn't drag his friends from the festivities. It'd make him feel too guilty. And walking back alone wouldn't prevent Riddle walking back with him. So Harry stood up on his own and started leaving.

Like he had guessed, Riddle walked in step with him.

"Twice in one day, I must be lucky," Riddle said cheerfully. Harry didn't respond. As they were approaching the main doors, Riddle rested a hand on Harry's shoulder.

"Come to my group. I'll pick you up from your Tower this coming Thursday. Nine in the evening"

"Look – I said no – "

"Or I will force you back to Ollivander's now."

Harry was so alarmed he didn't have a chance to give a rebuttal when Riddle practically slammed open the main door, strolled right through, and headed to the Slytherin dungeons, leaving Harry at the entrance.

Did Riddle always have to have the dramatic last word?

Author's note:

My interpretation is that 1000 galleons can open up a down payment on a small business in the late 20th century in prime downtown real estate (The Weasley Twins' shop.) That's no small sum, especially when you factor inflation in, even if they subsidized part of that with a loan. A butterbeer, which is non alcoholic, would be worth about 2 pounds.

He should have the equivalent of 300k pounds which is roughly 400k USD. A person with a salary of about 100k USD per year (less than what most doctors, lawyers, and tech folks make mid-career but still more than teachers), take home pay about 5k a month after taxes, about 2k going to basic living expenses (food, rent). This leaves about 3k per month for other spending and savings, so it's about how much a person like this would make after 10-20 years of working, giving Harry a very good head start on life but not a lot to live on for the rest of your life (and definitely not enough to live as long as a wizards do).


End file.
